Jason Zachary Guest
Long walks callus under heavy loads,
Inclining through fumes, by feel, and in rhyme,
‘Til whistles cushion in fantasy.
Producers, burden upon burden;
Providers with hand upon their head —
My, oh my, they toil in ecstasy!
How they harvest with machete as
Appendage, binder, and reminder,
That as others they shall never be.
My friend, yes, they ache;
They give, and they take,
All for another.
Return to El Salvador poetry
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