Poetry 2011 / Volume 42

i am dying of famine — Mikaela Cook

because your leg rubs against mine
underneath the wobbly dinner table of
Sue’s diner that smells of grease and

the friction of jeans grates my nerves
reminds me of times when your leg was
your hand and my leg was my hand

once again i am starving

i devour my own organs
consume the ventricles of my own heart
in an attempt to erase
the way your lips brushed my hair

when i wasn’t confined to this chair
and your ring glistened on my finger
because you were strong enough to call me yours
and i was weak enough to call you mine

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