Lydia Brown is a poet and Ph.D. student in English at the University of Virginia. Her recent work appears in Reservoir, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and The Millions. She is a graduate of William & Mary and lives in Charlottesville, VA.


Also by Lydia Brown: Pastoral Broken Heater


Lydia Brown

Hunger

Muddying my hands, digging up potatoes, stale, tasteless under fingernails, where I also tear to get at you. You, antiquated and incensed, hard as a Catholic memory, inaccessible and perfumed as torn eucalyptus. When I wake in sweat I think of them next door fucking, fear that by touching myself I might rouse you into being from stone, from the dead of holiness. That you might animate me as before. Distance, my reverence. Hunger, all of it. Reverence: how I look at the dregs. How I ask to be warmed by broth, if anything.




Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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