Contributor: William Speakes

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crushing tomatoes between
stained fingers, standing on

bare feet – corns, blisters, and
callouses worn from old shoes

years past their expiration like
the love that sits at the table

waiting for dinner that may come
with a touch of arsenic hidden

by salt from tears shed for children
lost to social services due to addiction

ravaged minds who forgot them
in the cold in the broken down Ford.


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Poet, Spoken word artist, aspiring novelist, and chef. Father of three and constantly trying to juggle my life's passions.