The dark, cold mud
At the pond bottom
Sits between my teeth
And their pink gums,
Sounds sink brown
And water bugs jump.
Please pass the plate
Of frayed orange lifejackets.
I’d like an oar or two
In my sweet tea tonight.
Do you see the light
Bob in the ice cubes
Like the waves
Crashing through my ears,
Sending fish and bait
Flopping, sopping up
A swimming appetite
From my dinner plate?
Cracked plates and silverware,
We all sit
Glaring,
Staring out
The dishwasher door.
Clean and dirty,
Silent as
The cold linoleum,
Tired of being stacked and scraped and smeared
With insatiable appetites.
Lint clumps and sharp, dry pasta pieces
Kicked beneath the rug
Brush across each taste bud,
Stick to the sides
Of my throat,
Or float down
With each sweep of your
Dusty blue
Broom bristle stares.
You pricked my
Kitchen floor cares,
And now I’m choking on
Forgotten appetites.
Sticky post-it notes
In thick wads
Down my throat,
Flashcards and bold print,
Just skim texts
Two percent,
Busy schedule
Kills the appetite.
Word count too full,
Word Watchers diet.
Happy, healthy people
Don’t try it.
He didn’t just
Like candy and soda,
Cupcake wrappers
Filled his tummy too.
Ten chubby fingers
Trembled like Jell-O
As they reached
For the small
Pale hands of his pretty
Curly haired classmate
Who sat in trepidation
across the school lunch table.
But her chocolate pudding
Like the brown swirls of her hair,
Captivated his senses
And curbed his appetite
As he immersed each finger
In the sweet distraction.
