FLEAS' FEED

Galeano's fleas dream of buying themselves a dog
Mine have for decades bought themselves beings
Across latitudes inhabited lassitude
With no verandas but horizons
With no friends but lost family
No money and health but pride and hopelessness
No ceilings, but stars for roofs

The fleas' fountain of blood see hear and breath but speak not
And so they have heard about stars
Bonos and Stallones, Beetles and Hulks of might
Up the cobalt sky their stars shine or how else are they stars?
Eyes switching from the Orion to the Southern Cross fingers in ditches
The fleas feed wonders if he was born before his star

With unflinching, unreserved authority fleas take bites at his back
To tired to move his nerves register multiple paroxysm
But quickly, hunger, thirst, cold and disease palliate the system
The eyes however fail to lie to the pain - wry tear drops
Looking at his roof, he asks.

Which one of you is mine up above?
Are you shinning upon me right now from above?
Might you have died and left me alive?
Or are you yet to arrive?
Or did someone put you off, but to whose approve?