vegetable stew (a poem)

she stood at the sink, mesh in hand

water flowing tepid, hot mixing with cold

scrubbing mud off food bank carrots

limp, bruised, shrunken

revealing pockmarks and knobby joints

where there should have been none

thick woody skin entrenched in weak orange flesh

nothing much is left

for stew.

©Cindy Lapeña,  20142014-11-12 23.45.37

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