We sent with our eyes
left us scattered, fallen
aching up
unto the gleaning
We sent with our eyes
left us scattered, fallen
aching up
unto the gleaning
I read a piece once
about Chinatown waiters –
about the hours they worked
and the money they made,
and how they sent it all home.
Someday I’ll watch
the traffic go by.
I’ll pour the soup
and won’t spill a drop.