the river cuts the city
in two; grouped by wealth,
the rich live down south.
there are no poor folk
where the rich people live.
up north, the middle class
take the bus to work.
southerners have drivers on call.
there’s no place for paupers
except bus drivers or chauffeurs.
at night, groups of men
bring death to the slums.
filling their coffers, shooting resisters.
bodies abandoned in the street,
sons, brothers, fathers – now deceased.
the newspapers report no deaths.
the tourist streets continue thriving.
inconvenient truths brushed away, erased.
there’s no room for death
in the city’s developed squares.
in the mansions and apartments
of better built up areas,
people live lives of comfort;
shielded from the daily horrors
of living without money’s protection.