Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2015
even with her fingers in her ears, she can hear the toy horse whipped.  if we don’t have food, we can’t pray.  my father was hired for his quickness, his hands

to salt
the rain.  grief is a guard dog from the permanent circus.
Barton D Smock
Written by
Barton D Smock  48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)   
403
   --- and KAT COLE
Please log in to view and add comments on poems