Shadows & Dust [poetry]

Emotional Eating

Eating pain is to know

and grow your hunger.

You tell yourself, I'll pick

something small, I'll

have an apple, that last

desperate snack smuggled

in under covers and raised

to wet, quivering lips, one

hunger sublimating another

and another, or maybe pluck

an orange from the freezer,

prick its frosted skin, pocking

fingernail scratches 'til citrus

scent bursts through to

your hands, bits of orange

carnage all over the sheets

and the floor. Then press

the cold flesh to your lips

and kiss. Roll it over the peaks

and valleys of your body, its

scars meeting yours. The

real fruit of the underworld

is the one you cannot eat.