Childhood, Fragments
My first memory
was my dog dragging a dead rat into my bedroom.
Mom walked in
I played with my limp toy.
Its polished eye watched,
she scolded the pup.
Showered, I sat on dusty carpet and listened;
the owl clock above the sink.
Her cracked hands washed green dishes
while the metal walls of our trailer
trickled into my veins drop after
drop,
after drop.
The Official Website of Aaron K Crocker 
Your poem is very down to earth and real for so many in todays society and living in poverty. Keep up the great writing.
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I am humbled and flattered.
Thank you for your kind and encouraging words.
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