Poetry – FLOOD
The Harvest

The Harvest

Its smooth, soft touch was amplifiedon her dried, hardened fingers,like a pay rise in a poor man’s stomach. Chewing back overgrowthswallowing thornafter thorn,each cut and cleantears off decay,layers of her skin:scars of perfectionismand quality. Kneeling,praying that the roaring jetswill take her with her life’s toil,but wilting posture grows closerto the short stalks she straightens daily. In a world of contradictions,where the Companycares for childrenand brings families to workso they need never leave,andRead more about The Harvest[…]