Contributor: William Speakes
crushing tomatoes between
stained fingers, standing on
bare feet – corns, blisters, and
callouses worn from old shoes
years past their expiration like
the love that sits at the table
waiting for dinner that may come
with a touch of arsenic hidden
by salt from tears shed for children
lost to social services due to addiction
ravaged minds who forgot them
in the cold in the broken down Ford.
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Poet, Spoken word artist, aspiring novelist, and chef. Father of three and constantly trying to juggle my life's passions.