Friday, November 16, 2007

Banning, CA

First Published in PoetSpeak Vol VII, #1 Spring 2003

Thin as winter fruit,
he stood in the orchard
and extended his hand,
begging in an unknown tongue.

I was nine years old.

Fourteen years later
I want to offer him

a taste of orange
juice flowing down
a dusty throat.

I was nine years old.

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