Day's end gleans my harvest. A child-worn rope, still swings ghost-smiles, seeking aspirations' Mirage. Author - Cynthia Proctor Copyright © 2001
I sit in the pit of society's spoon waiting for her to swallow, congealed by the squeal of her high appetite where the lowly frogs are sucked hollow. Author - Cynthia Proctor Copyright © 2001
POEM Author - Cynthia Proctor Copyright © 2001
I sit in the pit
of society's spoon
waiting for her to swallow,
congealed by the squeal
of her high appetite
where the lowly frogs
are sucked hollow.
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