Pink Moon Carries

forgotten, wasted years

when I was in ruins

before I claimed

to stand so tall


I lie there

letting smoke choke

perhaps I’m wiser now

but back then it was all heartfelt


the nativity scene

distracting old dreams

twirling broth

bowl and spoon reunite


I owe the pizza shop fifty cents

can’t keep my word

never could

since all of it is spent


bitten frost

subconscious droplets

pretending not to know

what it all meant


broken throat

and sore hands

city litter

formless sand

7 replies on “Pink Moon Carries”

A very intense piece of writing, and yes, who hasn’t owed that 50 cents at some point? Thank heaven for the generosity of Italians… :) thanks for the follow.

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