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.
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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