She pried open the shells all day.
Or cracked them with a hammer
extracting the purple vein
along the hinge of the shell.
They were hard to open.
She broke the handle on her little knife.
She left the worm inside to die
or gave it to the poor to eat.
Then wiped the white-washed wall
and left a purple hand.
Featured Download: If you would like a resource to help you write poetry like this, CLICK HERE.



Comment early, comment often, keep it civil: