Outcast
He sleeps along the empty street cobwebs sticking to his clothes; the dark and jealous lover grief has trailed him thru the world he knows.
Louise Louis
SourceLicence:Public domain (US, unrenewed)
He sleeps along the empty street cobwebs sticking to his clothes; the dark and jealous lover grief has trailed him thru the world he knows.
A man sleeps on an empty street, and the first thing we notice is how long he has been there. Cobwebs cling to his clothes, which suggests he has lain so still, for so long, that the world has started treating him like part of the furniture, something left behind and forgotten. The title, "Outcast," tells us the rest: he has been pushed out of ordinary life.
The second half turns from his body to his mind. Grief is pictured as a "dark and jealous lover" who has followed him everywhere. The word "jealous" is striking. It makes sorrow possessive, a presence that won't let him go or let anyone else close. Even the one place he might find peace, sleep, doesn't free him.
The speaker never says how they feel directly. Instead they simply watch and describe, and that quiet distance makes the mood heavy and sad. We don't get an explanation for his grief, only the sense that it is his one constant companion.