Salvatore Ghamo is a poet in search for answers. He writes The Times:

My name is Salvatore Ghamo, and I’m an English Major at Endicott College. I’ve enjoyed writing short stories and poems since I was a boy. I plan to keep putting together these pieces throughout my college career. I hope my craft continues to reflect my love for this art form.

Poet Salvatore Ghamo.

The Crux is Caught in Folded Hands

A balloon might delay in frost  

wrinkle, and crack, and slim

but will it cry, and cringe, and crawl

or have no life to give?

A red flower will fill with flames

crinkle, and stain, and sulk

but does it scream or screech decay

or sink back in the mud?

A bird will fly sharp through the wind

soar and slice through the air

but will breath turn to blood and death

or float without a tear?

A doll lay still in a chair so

face down its eyes will shut

but if it looked and saw for once

did it turn right side up?

A polliwog will grow with many

the swamp is full of tons

but if it swam a lonely road

would it ever fall in love?

A hangnail, a tedious creature

clutches and holds on tight

but if it fell for fear of pain

did it cling to death or life?

A record, it spins with such grace

wobbles a joyful tune

but if it skipped a pretty beat

would it miss the groove?

A baby is born, an old toad dies

both cringe and crawl that day

but for the fear of it I think

will either recall the pain?

—  Salvatore Ghamo

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