The dietitian said peanutbutter not butter,one egg, be spinach, find a walnut.Less juice, more lack.Not my kind of punishment, though.If she only said green, the color of lightbounced off a leafcan enter your mouth,that would have appealed to me.Mom said Dad, Dad said Mom.It was almost as if they could stop growingand be a tree stump.Later, at the Hare Krishna free vegetarian feast,I ate insincerelybowls of BBQ tofu chunks. Avoided eyesby staring at the chunky menstrual sauce.I sniffed the old chemical mark.Nobody had my head in their hands.This is the oldest song in the world.It was carved into a clay tablet.God I was hungryfor mighty is the Lordin his lack of mindfulness.
Hungry Poem
Rennie Ament
Feature Date
- June 5, 2025
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Copyright © 2024 by Rennie Ament.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
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