1.


you never
knew or
understood
the invisible
or
the indelible, no
long-seeping
beet black
proof of
yes, always or
still, my
darling–


yours is
the quick
hunger, the too
many or
too much
all animal
appetite
and then
the long
slow notion
that it was
not what
you
were
hungry
for it


was only
what
you
ate.


2.


when I look deep
into that dimness of
the cupboard, open
again at this non
hour, this no
time


moths, their small
hungers, made
great in
numbers


a dark
flutter–


millet, I can
put in jars
you, I can’t
put
anywhere.


3.


We
are not, nor
will we
ever be, friends–


something
there is
that doesn’t love


the dish
grown cold


nor the blind
insistence, saying
go
on, take
a bite–


you feed that
other mouth
you’ve found


I’m not
hungry
any
more.