The Dining Table: A Poem by Gbanabom Hallowell

Reading Time: < 1 minute Gbanabom Hallowell: The Dining Table Dinner tonight comes with gun wounds. Our desert tongues lick the vegetable blood – the pepper strong enough to push scorpions up our heads. Guests look into the oceans of bowls as vegetables die on their tongues. The table that gathers us is an island where guerrillas walk the land …

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