Hungry
Hunger -
Rising in my belly,
Brewing in my chest;
A gnawing need gnashing its teeth on my soul.
This goes beyond mere appetite,
Beyond the mountain tip-top of want
(The dastardly beast which growls in my flesh
And reminds me that I am a
Woman
And not a disembodied head of ponderings
Or a deep violet bucket of melancholy and feeling).
No, this is colossal. Mammoth, even.
I cannot ignore this.
This is when I turn into emptiness;
I become a clear, translucent, life-sized figurine -
An empty pit of longing -
Until my heart might leap out of my chest
And sink its teeth into the first meager scraps
Of love that are flung my way.
Grrrrroooowwwllll.
Was that inside or outside?
I don’t know.
But it’s not a threat of death that I sound from within –
It’s the affirmation of the need of love and life
From the bottom of my soul.
I am woman,
And good God,
I am hungry.
Written 3/18/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
