top of page
JOHNNY M. TUCKER, JR.
In a State of Poverty
A blade of grass
limp and tired
stranded on a dry
summer's day
awaits
a-long-time-coming
the very least
a single drop of rain.
A poet--sitting on a curb--
plucks it from its roots and
then blindly tosses it aside
his soul famished.
From where he sits
watches his own hand
brush atop that same
rough patch of grass,
all the while awaiting
a single verse, a syllable
rich in sound.
by Johnny M. Tucker, Jr
bottom of page