Pot au Fou

April 06, 2014

Scavenging the cupboards
for something to make
sense of this hunger, growing
consuming me

Nothing is appealing
in the boxes and cans
lined liked soldiers
Sent to witness
the hanging
thread of my life

Easier to crawl
bare and bleeding
into another’s kitchen
hoping to be fed
There they are 
making a thin soup
of grueling expectations

the Menu reads

     Eat and eat until there is no more room
     to breathe a sigh of relief

     We will leave you
     full with aching hunger
     until you gnaw pitted porous bone and suck the marrow out of your dreams 

I place my order of things
on the table.

Served Just Desserts, on the house

For days
I carry out 
the smell of old grease and searing flesh

It saturates my skin
like regret 

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