Welcome to the tenth day of our 30/30!
Your prompt today is:
I’m starving for
Guidelines, if you want them:
- Posting your response is not required
- Feel free to post your response 🙂
- This is not meant to be the perfect first draft – respond without hesitation for 5-7 minutes, then keep going if you want to
- While our prompts are geared towards poetry, we welcome all kinds of artists
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QuillsEdge Press 
D. F. 1969
Today, I’m starving for something more
than the single tomato squeezed
through the strainer into the hot
water and olive oil we will call soup.
Want to reach out and take the pulpy
mass and chew every last bit, double
the little newspaper cone of fideo
Until there will be a taste for everyone
but I can only watch and wonder about
the breakfast bread, broken into pieces
and passed like some last supper before
sending the others off to school. Where
is the justice between wages and what
they will buy? Oh, there will be hominy in
the soup come Christmas Eve, but how
will the little ones wait. The refrigerator
hums emptily, save for some ice in a
flat pan. There will be lemonade for
the man of the house who comes in
from playing soccer before he goes
back uptown to play cards. Meanwhile
on the corner, Malea plays out the blue
thread and hooks it into doilies she’ll sell.
The soup sits poorly on my stomach.
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30/30, Day 10
starving
been starving to eat forget
starving not to remember
how it could have been
before it was no more
been starving to eat forget
the last of those memories
when we were the young, we
could not see before now
been starving to eat forget
a morsel of already eaten
bread, once just rising
dough under a red dishcloth
been starving to eat forget
the last of that meal served
on a table where the ugly
gathered to share beauty
been starving to eat forget
that stupid picture taken
before we knew how much
we did not know before now
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away for the weekend – trying to catch up:)
I’m starving for nothing,
never had the need, the passion.
I’ve hungered for so much –
understanding, acceptance, affirmation –
those deep, innate human hungers.
Yet, in the midst of hunger was always plenty.
Those simple soul desires, fairy wishes –
for a Baskin-Robbins in the shopping center,
a library one mile down the road,
a faith community around the corner –
all these wishes granted, how could I hunger?
Unspoken daily prayers for the well-being of
the kids, the parents, the siblings, friends, satisfied.
Whatever indigestion rumbled in the stomach of my life,
nigglings of hunger, foods I had no stomach for,
my miraculous body and companion soul accepted.
I learned to love Brussel sprouts as much as chocolate chip cookies.
My hungers, my appetite adjusted to life’s offerings.
I have starved for nothing.
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