hunger
she said
I only want
a bite
a little nibble
perhaps,a chew
to the light
she said
I can have everything
that isn't nailed down
if I was willing
to let it all go
at first to burst
and then flow
past what I thought
I could know
to be pleasure
in surrender
she said
do I understand
anything
about bleeding
that it is
what we were
meant to do
we are each
a squeezebox model
of the breathable universe
sometimes we know this
when we're dying
or least withering
on the vine
waiting to ripen
and it is in
these moments
that we seek
the orbital weave of gravity
the return
the burn
the beat
the hunger
to eat each other
to fine ourselves to the bone
tooth and comb
what the tides
swallow of unnecessary
so we could be fed
sated rested
and lying in
what our fingers
pulse home
what words spill
when we embrace
through to the poem
EJR (c)
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