Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
his baby is wailing in its crib for its mother and he mans you up for a cigarette and blows on the baby’s face and somewhere you yourself have stopped crying as you are pulled from a pile of leaves by two people made of smoke
Barton D Smock
Written by
Barton D Smock  48/M/Columbus, Ohio
(48/M/Columbus, Ohio)   
78
   Nat Lipstadt
Please log in to view and add comments on poems