hunger
by Sharmon Gazaway
it’s not the vellum stretched
over thirsty bone it’s not the large liquid
liquid eyes that want filling
like two pits it’s not the shaved ribs
for counting nor the knees like gazelles’
on the parched savanna and it’s not the wren-
delicate collarbones throat hollow spread thin
with skin too new for this job
nor is it the tender lips pressed resolutely together
like clasped hands at the altar
it is the silence
of terrible patience
—
Sharmon’s work has appeared in Third Wednesday, The Pangolin Review, The Storyteller Magazine, and Time of Singing Journal. Two of her poems were finalists in the 2016 and 2017 Stephen DiBiase Poetry Contest. She lives in north GA where she wishes it snowed more. She is currently at work on a chapbook and a novel.