Our guest poet writes: “My name is Salvatore Ghamo, and I’m a Communications Major at Endicott College. I’ve enjoyed piecing together short stories since I was a young boy but never thought to truly pursue my craft. My freshman year of college I took a creative writing class. Since my experience in that class, I’ve seen the world with a whole new perspective. It is a perspective I hope to keep reflecting on in my writing.”

Salvatore Ghamo

Maggot

Vultures flood the scene
He’s bound to see the clouds
Brewing over bubbling down
These chains will rust away
A slick of mud he’ll grease his spine
The ditch in which he stays,
And slyly slide, right passed this hell,
For now just taste the rain
His thirst is quenched,
His pain the persistent persuasion of rest
Steal a breath,
The darkness would not confess
(Your grave a bed,) he fades…
To sweat and chirps that waft regret
And whispers haunt this breeze,
A chatter that festers in a peppered sun
Wake up! A rhythmic whip, a snake
His bane his friend came into his trench
I fear the end my hissing friend
My wounds, they wiggle with critters
For the rain I slept, and the sun I wept,
And soon you’ll bite my neck but
Death will nourish this world,
If only to fill the belly
Of a couple hundred worms

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