![]() Family MattersA Poem by Ben Taylor
You have buried yourself
in the rubble. You spend your days collecting concrete corners from crumbling sidewalks, filling pockets to shopping carts with detritus and dust, grout and grime collecting on your fingertips. Each night you pile your treasures high enough to erase the horizon, until the sun can no longer set for you. You declare the sun diseased, and lament that not a soul wants to share with you your s**t-stained circumstance. There's a spot set for me, a candle guttering in the dingy dark, a faint filament of flame that I recall from childhood. But I will find my warmth elsewhere.
© 2025 Ben Taylor |
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Added on March 4, 2025 Last Updated on March 4, 2025 Author![]() Ben TaylorColumbia, MOAboutAlmost everything I write now is relatively real, so just read what I write and get to know me. more..Writing
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