Hunger Spot
Hunger Spot
Hunger is usually done alone, in the dirty card board box, called home
On wet, cut corners out of traffic, forever in unguarded dark
Winds, harsh voices, howling on hollow self and scene are what remain
The food is gone, never to return
Hunger; it reminds you of life, of chronic pain, leaving little else
I tried to eat my shoe today, thinking it was leather…It was not
Plastics should come in assorted varied flavors
To see me through the night
I expect things to get better in my box
If not, there is always hunger to fill this empty spot
Revised 11/03/14 for- "Any Poem 12- line MAX"- Poetry Contest
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