A Hungry Poet

Hungry poet
Sit at my table
What do you write?
Is it a meal for the mind...

Or a story for the stomach

Hungry poet
Oh how furious and firm
I watch...
Forearm flexed as
Your script glides across as
Would a hot knife
Through cool butter

Your pen punctures
Pinholes into pie crust
Apple and cinnamon
Ink bleeds vanilla essence
Blank pages of pastry
Showered with sugar

Your poem snags at my
Tastebuds
Tantalizing
Teasing

Maybe...

Dress me
Or undress me
Frilly leaves of
Green and purple
Jewels of tomatoes
Bedazzled is my body

Hungry poet
Slice me away
Piece by piece
Leave your words
All undone

In my kitchen floor

Come find me...and we'll eat well together...

Xo

A Girl