Her Salt Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Her Salt
Her salt
Like two lines of bitumen
Black, thin and separated
Overflowing from a barrel
Landing, over virgin snow
Her legs are, on salt in lake
She gathers to earn a living.
I had my breakfast without
Because I know the benefit
Does not go to her, but to a
Fat businessman with factory
Exploiting her; as when slave.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: sympathy
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4/26/2024 9:32:51 PM # 1.0.0.1119
