Thin Slices of Hell
We never knew witches were real.
Until you flashed your fingertip fire.
Across our motherless cheeks and into our lives.
We needed quilts of compassion and support.
You offered only endless task and unbridled welt retort.
Now you're old and retired the broom and the belt.
Though your hugs and words are still north pole cold.
Just like they were some five decades ago.
When you force fed us thin slices of hell.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment