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M Grant Teague
Poems
Dec 2019
The Prize
The prize
The prize
That was not the prize
There is a hot sting not to wear gold
Nor silver, nor copper, nor soft satin
There is a gnawing hunger
Not to gain,
Check,
Dollar,
Nor nickel.
But
The prize
The prize
Those were not the prize
I crave that first voice
That tongue dancing my song
Those lips kissing my ink
Those teeth chewing in ecstasy
The words I wrote
Just me
#riches
#free
#form
#words
#prize
Written by
M Grant Teague
35/M
(35/M)
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Carlo C Gomez
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