Photojournalism

She collects newborn
from Spartan hillsides,

swaddles their shiver
in cobwebs spun of wisdom

but her dry paps leave
them starved.

Cries her be-wares, in monochrome,

for those at home,

sensitised to beggars tone.

They will die, as a foregone,

when collective
conscience is stoppered

to only the few.