Peppercorns
If each peppercorn was a life,
each is saddled in surrender
of shunless damnation.
They dwell in anguish--
death row prisoners.
They huddle together
awaiting torsion
as the grinder rends
the season from their body.
All that remains is dust
milled over an entrée.
Copyright © Darren Knight | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment