It’s food I want.

My mouth devouring

grapes and berries plucked

and juicy on my lips.

I want to dig potatoes

buried in the earth

and boil them soft,

unpeeled.

I want to eat so I can look

into my woman’s eyes

and with my hunger

fill her womb with seed

and watch her bloom

and bring our hungry children

to the air, her wet milk

on their mouths

so they can cry and breathe and grow.

I want my hunger satisfied

so I can shout at those who stomp

the weak and hungry

into the ground like bugs,

whose greed brings war and death.

I want to eat

so I can hold my neighbors’ hands

and share what we have grown,

drink wine and water,

and breathe the fragrant air.

I want to look into their eyes

when we break bread,

our stomachs full,

our hunger now

for what cannot be eaten.