Katrina Kaye

with apologies to Stephen Crane

he said it was 
my heart
but I
ate of it regardless

devoured each
drop with desperate
truth over sour
tongue

I did not recognize
the taste as my own

my heart
when consumed
becomes part of me

and yet
and yet and yet and yet
my stomach does not fill

I remain malnourished
and I know only hollow

I slip inside cocoon
a meditation

all eyes 
look the same and I 
boil in fever

the rage passes and I am a 
railroad eager
to travel the transatlantic

eager to bypass
all the minutia 
that makes up the
daily toil

it is not logical
to traffic in wants,
but I am so hungry

I will mortgage 
my future for the satisfaction
of a kind word and
a precious moment.

let me wrap you in the chill
of morning

and offer up a bite
or two

 

“my heart” is previously published in Scissortail Quarterly (2020).