Like maggots on a piece of ham,
the critics do their work
Devouring just because they can,
to maim, destroy, and hurt
They eat through flesh right to the bone
never missing one last scrap
Not even a scribbled, half-done poem
—have they ever given back
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April,2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem