The Rawest Shit You Ever Did Eat, by Ben John Smith

Like boxers
Who like hugs.

Bears in trash cans, finding a cheeseburger.

A feast

The end of ink in a pen

A bricklayer laying 500 bricks a day
For 60 cents a brick

A woman saving straws wrapped in paper
For her grand kids.

Kids drowned in bathtubs.

A cotton ball in a wet sink.

Nurses on call, all night television.

A sock with a hole in it
On a foot

A taxi driver lost

The bath water
A water line
We suck

But sometimes the hands of bricklayers
With the soft skin of a child,
The cotton drying out — warm again, dry.

The television turned off.

A quiet amongst the noise

A soft kiss
From a pair of sun broken lips

They take me
And it feels

I shouldn’t say sorry
To anyone

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