Noshaba Siddiqui Poetry

my old shoes
smell like tears
frozen by low lying
clouds fattened
by blood form my finger tips.

from my room
i can see the raindrops fall
from great heights--
hitting the ground
with the strength and power
of a drunkard
tripping over his own
feet.

i hear the thundering crack
of body and rock
splitting up bone
and flesh, mixing up flesh
and dirt, swallowing
warm, useless phlegm

Poet: Uriel Tovar