Photo by Tayeb MEZAHDIA on Pexels.com
Met a woman from Hiroshima whose skin hung from her fingernails
she watched it blow like voile in the purple gamma fog
nobody wanted to hear her tale, “move on” they said.
I wrote an important poem about her and sent it to “The Albino Hare Journal”
They were looking for poems on syntactic compounds of conflict
I broke a rule of not choosing Times New Roman, 11.5 font.
Met a man from nowhere you’ve heard of who put out a blitz with his eyes,
he was just a boy you passed as an old man and you never batted an eyelid,
when he passes on his epitaph will be in any old font, his life was a poem.
I wrote an important poem about the dirt in his fingernails he couldn’t wash off,
“it’s all I had left of my Dad when we…
View original post 143 more words