The disparate desperation seethes viciously through my veins in the air, an outward cowardly despair, in the air, a breath saturated in a tantalizing wish a dare on feathery dandelions blown, seeding the air a taste of cherries of figs, of pears a life of delicacy, deliciously plump, juice runs ripe ‘Alas- your trees are bare the earth is not right not fertilized in specific care, the loam- no sand, no silt nor proper clay the famine in your bloodline a betrayal, unfaithful the bearing of the fruit yields an unstoried fable.
© Jay Mora-Shihadeh
Photo by Jasper Wilde on Unsplash
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