That’s the thing about hunger
it seeps in while you aren’t paying
attention and takes center stage.
I woke at 4 am with a thunderstorm
in belly and an aching body. Witholding
my secrets has put nothing
on the table but the ice and moldy twigs
of winter. How easy it would be
to just go foraging, to go searching,
and find something better, but for that
I’ll need better bait. I’ll cut a hole
in the ice and dangle a string. Hours later
I just have wet twigs freezing on ice. If this
is what my hunger brings, I’ll let it fester
and age to fertilize a future meal.