Poetry #46
(published June 28, 2001)
(published June 28, 2001)
The Very Last Supper
Rosebuds
pursed, hurt lips— dead
we eat
only to not throw food
away
the fork falls on the floor
the waiter always checks
if everything's
alright
pursed, hurt lips— dead
we eat
only to not throw food
away
the fork falls on the floor
the waiter always checks
if everything's
alright
Share on Facebook
Tweet about this Piece
Poetry Archives