Anything but hunger
— ing
After all of this
Appetite
Has settled
Down debris, be seated
Pillage and core
Rows upon rows of deserted homes
Wanting kin
Each Friday evening set to burn
But too empty to catch, quite
Human hunger in the Autumn
Is better than none
For anything
Why dreaming of sinew and all that bone?
Everyone knows
The Marble Faun
Will not survive
Settled under all that soft on soft, soft too
Coaxes and heals
The hound of the self
Comes to feed no more
When hunger has a different name.
Moon Bodies 