Liquid Lunch Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Liquid Lunch
Quavering in the night, not quite steady on their feet,
alcoholics filling their beings with a liquid lunch
and going back to work.
Unable to find their way back, having forgotten what
they were going to do, through music and rhythms now
moving forward into a space of life.
One that's not been tamed, preferring walking the wild
side, challenging it to move aside and remove whatever
is unnecessary.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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6/2/2024 1:25:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
