Fast by Ellen Rowland

By Ellen Rowland
Poetry X Hunger

If you were to ask me about hunger

I would tell you it's like being held 

in empty arms for too long, purse

strings tightened at the parched mouth

drawn closed on unmet needs. 

Thirst is a dry river bed, a dead cricket's leg, 

trough of dust, fat snowflake 

uncaught by young tongues.

And after the deep well 

no longer cares what it might hold,

at the first bite, the first sip

the animal need to take all

not to taste, but to fill,

not to quench, but to flow.

But what do I know

of real hunger, true thirst?

If I could pack it up, I'd send it–

the wasted corporate buffet,

the bottled waterfall. 

I swear, I would send it to you.

Fast, I'd fast.

Source :Poetry X Hunger - Hunger Poems