HUNGER

My teeth have begun to fall out, dear God my hands are gripping the 
dirty bathroom sink and a toothless grin smiles back at me, dig deeper 
it says but I have claw marks on my arms and skin under my fingernails. 

Next time, when you ask me to give her to you —I won’t. 
Clutched tightly in my arms, I’ll pull her closer and closer until there is 
nothing left and in the other version, when you reach your hands out,
 palms empty with longing, I will know
 there’s nothing more empty than an offer of more.


Wrapped so sweetly in that soft new skin I mistook her for a gift 
you’re never supposed to give. I didn’t know, 
that to want is to loathe, hunger begets hunger 
and my teeth, dear God, they’re falling out and now all I’m left with 
are rotten lips that say yes when they mean no, 
and dig a little deeper it says so I do.