Staples Poem by Daniel Brown
Staples
With my one way rotten hand,
Sifting through the sands upon a shore,
Set in a broken land,
Feeling for the bone decay....
To recognize a memory of myself,
Threading needle through cracked skin,
Croaking wounds,
Spilling crimson, amber lights,
Reflected in a blood red moon
Sunday, April 7, 2024
Topic(s) of this poem: memory,wounds
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8/28/2026 8:19:08 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
