Hunger that Defines Us
I'd
like
to add
to life some
butter on rye bread.
Bread of infancy's memory,
flavors of back then, of biscuits given one by one
like treats, by other names, as if a name is only given when what I want is scarce,
a treat, easy to expect when hunger does not beg.
Its context carries it along
to bring a smile for
hearts that wept
before
this
gift.
