Today's poem is by Lynne Knight
I ate and ate, all mouth.
At night there was no difference
between me and the chewing dark
that worked its way along walls,
slipped through windows, pressed
against air. I took leaves, books, secrets.
I took and took. Remembering how
little I'd begun with impelled me
the cell that split, the cell
that didn't, the whole
chance enterprise of seed and ovum,
me. I had been told I was safe.
But weren't there currents in water?
Fires that could start on their own?
I took every care when I went where I went
as I had when my mother gave orders
my blood woke to, my bones: Take.
Eat. I went on obeying, as if I had always
known I would taste nothing
but her name when she was no longer
with me, hunger I would never eat away.
Copyright © 2006 Lynne Knight All rights reserved
from Night in the Shape of a Mirror
David Robert Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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