An eye for an eye

If only.

Pluck mine out,

ponder it like a ripe orange,

and slurp it down your throat,

taught and bouncy as a grape.

I cannot reach your face

when your boot is on my neck.

by Kara Rowan, The Hustle Horrors Series

For more information on The Hustle Horrors Series, click here.

This poem is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events or companies is purely coincidental.