Cob Of Corn Poem by Frank Meintjies

Cob Of Corn

The seed(s)
that cob of corn
sewn so long ago

Just for these hands
these lips
these teeth

I walk through
the city's intestines
adrift
stop and go
I greet, my voice curls
travels around the smoke
over the crude brazier, and rises
she nods a nod
I offer my coins

That seed and cob and fire
all lined up
to meet these hunger pangs

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Frank Meintjies

Frank Meintjies

Rietvlei, South Africa
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