"Fast" by Ellen Rowland

 Fast

If you were to ask me about hunger
I would tell you it's like being held 
in empty arms for too long, purse
strings tightened at the parched mouth
drawn closed on unmet needs. 
Thirst is a dry river bed, a dead cricket's leg, 
trough of dust, fat snowflake 
uncaught by young tongues.
And after the deep well 
no longer cares what it might hold,
at the first bite, the first sip
the animal need to take all
not to taste, but to fill,
not to quench, but to flow.
But what do I know
of real hunger, true thirst?
If I could pack it up, I'd send it–
the wasted corporate buffet,
the bottled waterfall. 
I swear, I would send it to you.
Fast, I'd fast.

Ellen Rowland is the author of two collections of haiku/senryu as well as the book Everything I Thought I Knew, essays on living, learning and parenting outside the status quo. Her writing has appeared in numerous literary journals and in several poetry anthologies, most recently The Path to Kindness: Poems of Connection and Joy. Her debut collection of full-length poems, No Small Thing, is forthcoming from Fernwood Press in 2023. She lives off the grid with her family on an island in Greece. Connect with her on Instagram @rowland.ellen

Hunger Poems