Committed writers dedicated to working together to produce excellent poems, short stories, drama, life writing, and creative non-fiction

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Tuesday 13 November 2012

Phnom Penh

               A shoe, small, dark-stained
               crawls up between the burrowing roots
               beneath the tree
               where music once shrieked on
               and on to kill the screams;
               the pits, some empty wounds, some not yet pits
               where shoes now tread on hardened earth
               and jutting bones;
               a shoe, emptied of despair, begs remembrance.
© Sheila Rogers
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