Hallow

by BOB GALLO   Apr 17, 2021


Thus said a boy ingrown and callow
to his mother:

Could you and my father
stop being so protruded
and hallow?
always wavering in every chore
either below
or on the top of each other
like being permanently
peacefully
at war.

Whispered the mother in shroud
back to his ear:
If the world
didn't waver so aloud
enough for you to hear
you couldn't even
be possibly here.

1


Did You Like This Poem?

Latest Comments