Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


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Her hips across the hours
Tribal- her dark glasses
As we walked in threes through Hell.

Nothing whole
Except a hand size full of food wasted.

Teeth sharpened.
Hawks improvising the sound of flight.

At this point-
Watches
And useless piles of shit.

How many people there were at this Nightmare,

When Dreams piled high with bottles
Have anywhere to go.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 24, 2018

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5 Comments

Water Into Wine

I knew a man named Jesus,

He kept a pebble in his shoe to remind him he was one atom human and one quantum God.

When the girl with the alabaster jar asked if he were good,

Jesus smiled, kicked free his feet and said,

“Yes, girl. For you have reminded me so.”

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – July 28, 2015