
Frankly,
my beans are in the oven
and the bones are roasted
for flavor
Now if you had a thought
let it drip like grease on
my Under-pan
10 business days
for urgent
I'd be careful
closets have doors
Keep yours locked
And I'll keep mine
A torn worm knew you spoke in tongues
I believed it
and put her out of her misery
on that one blade of green grass
I hate beans
About the Creator
Michele Nampalli
This space is breath for my sensitivity. The poems come fully formed. I've known for quite some time now that my art is about receiving more than creation...its the most natural way I know to process my inner world. It started when I was 7.



Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.