Poem: Spices

Pumpkin spice and cinnamon are already out in stores

When every morning you awaken with the threat of death

Death by crime , death by virus

Death by ignorance

Will these be the spices to adorn our dead bodies?

For a roast on the campfires of lawlessness

Our cities burn yet it is ignored

And the ones who could stop it are left helpless by a word … No

” Well it’s not here yet” you think

“Let them let off steam” you said

” I’ll turn a blind eye” you do

Lawlessness breeds lawlessness

Spices burn too , you know


© Wanda Sanders 2020 August 12


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