Food Poem

Chicken soup again and again, over and over and over. Sip the

broth and let the warm stuff fill the veins.

Junk food that would appall my mom, But my body just

needs something

Strawberry fruit leather. My baby sleeps, I can see the open

sign of the pizza place next door shine through the win-

dow. I’m tired of lying awake. She makes little noises, almost

speaking, and I worry she’s in a nightmare somewhere I can’t

take her from, and she makes little noises and I look on in

wonder as she does. My heart feels raw gaping open wide and

I want her I want her I want her but …

When something is in the mind how can you make it better?

How can you take it and spin it right? I try, I tell her the truth,

tell her, but the words sound empty and dry to her ears and I..

I’m tired of lying awake, tired of stewing in this. I’m two feet

from her and I long for her, to reach out to make her laugh,

to touch, and I lie and stare at the sliver of sky I can see

through the bedroom window, and I wonder if I ever do the

right things. She breathes in sharply and I feel on high alert,

in protection, if anything came at her I’d be right here to stop

it. But I can’t bear this. the weight of her mind

.

she is asleep, and I’m awake. I’m awake.

Caesar salad and things are hard, again, still. Curious how

things can change fast.

Brussel sprouts and I’m layered, cabbaging over myself sort

of easily, twistingleavesfibbonacihidestheinside, theleaves

turn into I’m fine I’m so fine. Green clorophylled.

She can slowly peel the leaves back one by one and the

middle spiral feels open and raw and the new light blinds

me wakes me up god vegetable Oh. How good it feels to be

picked. My mom grows the most beautiful vegetables.

Coffeecoffeecoffeeandrageragerage, aperfectpairingGod

the heart pounds feet speed up to a heavy run big boots

my brain moves.

Tap water

Oh Oh O

O

O

O

h.

are you tired of this yet.

Canned tomatoes. Glass in the jar in the mouth. See how

opposing forces can collapse you?