FICTION
Hunger
A poem
A white cloth is stretched on the table
Two meters in length
One in width
Ropes mesh in a porcelain bowl
with tiny balls of cotton
An old man’s perfume captures the air
mingles with jasmine and bougainvillea
Nauseous smell swirls in home
blowing its familiar odor to the far clouds
When her body is raised from the water
laid on the harsh fabric
loud cries pierce the roof
from maudlin visitors
their cheeks wet and nose sticky
in a competition for most-swelling face
A white band brings her legs together
Her bony arms are tied to her chest
Artisans craft nodes around her neck and both ankles
Her shackles were iron
too hard for a hammer of flesh
Now softer, still unbreakable
A parade of people brings her to a new house
scattering soils to lock the door
Carnations fall in her yard
unbeknownst of their pointless fragrance for the woman below
Bright-eyed worms slither from their hideout
Upon seeing her, they exclaim, ‘A new meat, fresh out of the world!’
Livid, defeated
The absence of pain marks her union with the earth
In an eternal darkness, she waits for the sun to burst,
succumb to its hunger for the galaxy
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