tagErotic PoetryLunch Hour

Lunch Hour

byDale_Arden©

On some days, I get hungry early
and cannot keep my fingers from
the fishes and the loaves, hoping
to recreate the miracle, and feed
a multitude. Then you arrive,
and we together dine. I often eat
and eat until, stuffed and sweaty,
I can eat no more.
                           After,
when you have left, gone back to work,
I make myself a sandwich, brew more
coffee, plan our dinner, warm the stove.

My hunger is a tapeworm made of love.

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byDale_Arden© 2 comments/ 1459 views/ 0 favorites

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