End of Day

we would hide

behind crates of squash,

we spent all day picking

tired and withered

just wanting a little rest

as we migrate south

as birds for winter

we hid our

worn bodies

broken backs—from bending all day

behind the freshly picked squash

our youth seeking much needed peace

we hid ourselves

from the wind

the policemen

—but it      didn’t matter

because     if he had found us

we were too tired for running

the squash had mashed us

to a pulp

—home we dream

home…

we would hide

behind crates of squash

we spent all day picking

there we hid from ourselves

from the cops

from the wind

from the day

which broke our backs

3 thoughts on “End of Day

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