“Hunger” – 2 Poems


earl grey tea is a misnomer

it’s really more of a deep brown and it’s definitely not an earl

in my pauper’s cup.

i wake up, head throbbing, lie there between the white sheets

like a ghost, feeling the sensations

of warmth and hunger and fog.


the hunger, really, is unearned –

somehow i still see eating as a transaction, a sacrifice my body makes

one which i probably don’t deserve.

somehow despite the strong curves of my body

i still need to justify

adding cream to my coffee.


today there is a potato festival in Ebensburg, Pennsylvania

i want to set a personal record for the amount of potato i can eat

in a single day.





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