The body, hungry, whimpers and roars
alive like motors, vacuums, something loud
as meows from hungry cats scratching the door.
Weeks have passed, maybe months, since I allowed
this feeling: desire for rice, green beans,
a need for lunch like normal girls who eat
til full, not til seams start ripping on jeans.
How do I explain it, the repeating
cycle? Birds lounging on telephone lines.
I count nine of them. How do I explain—
the body’s a cavern no one can find
an end to. Coffee, toast with jam, I’ll train
it to wait for the need, for hunger’s hum—
become more motor, more vacuum, less numb.