Ode to the crumbled
chips
I'm up to my wrist
to get my fingers
on you
and your broken friends

and the little ones
you are protecting
have me
up to my elbow
in no mercy

I tilt back
denouement
poured down
my gullet
sleeve roughly
dragged 'cross
mouth belch
their salty
stink
look away





Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis