On the steps of a marbled city space
I spoke with a Syrian refugee,
cold, worn and shaking, left arm reaching to
a black and tan mongrel pup’s bright-eyed face.
‘All I need now’, he began to tell me,
‘is a small and portable, waterproof …’
‘… ah yes, of course,’ I presumptuously
interjected, ‘you need a mobile phone?’
He smiled. ‘No, no, friend, until I met you
I have not known a single soul to call.
It is a small warm kennel for newfound
responsibility I need. That’s all.