Fly in the Head

3rd Place Winner in Poetry
Filitsa Sofianou-Mullen Creative Writing Competition 2019

I Am Hungry
By Yagama
Poetry
1. I am hungry. I am hungry. I am hungry. 2. Whether you creep or crawl born by wind or moulded by water slithering underground or furry in the undergrowth No matter who you are. I want to eat you. 3. Dinner has commenced the exquisite glitter of candlelight caught in the mercurial silhouettes of fine cutlery. No slurping here. The delicate bouillon,though made of the past is the noble colour of amber. Spoons are gracious and receptive, like Mother Then it hits you in the main vein anyway, of course - knives cut through everything at stake raw blood drips from empty spaces forks aristocratically poke at emotions appetizing bits of veiled messages brought to the lips... and the chewing - you’d think they swallow the pieces whole, so refined their mouth movements. But their teeth are sharp. The salad of confusion sprinkled with apathy doesn’t excite anyone but then again, we choose the healthy option. Forgotten pieces of landmines explode between our teeth. This food is giving me nuclear decomposition. I am glowing like a lightbulb. 4. Beaked, feathered, barking, tethered, hardboned slimy spiky tiny big delicious ugly nutritious chewy and boney crunchy and toasty crumbled minced and stuffed oven-baked and puffed canned boxed and packaged unpackaged raw vegan organic uncooked still alive and kicking my fingers I’ll be licking while spooning out your soul. 5. I think it will last forever No matter how much I eat, my body remains thin and beautiful because I don’t eat human food. I prefer to die. 6. After I have properly stuffed myself with foie-gras, black caviar, camels-milk, and the tongues of a thousand hummingbirds I put two fingers up my throat and vomit up the world so I can eat it up again. It’s an eternal feast! 7. I found a hair in my soup today My army is marching on an empty stomach My feet are aching, I smell defeat. All I ask of food is that it does not harm me... The waitress is like, “First come first served! ” and turns her back on me for now in favor of some fat guys in the corner. Hunger has the sweetest flavor - when I see her again she brings God on a platter in the form of a pork chop. I pounce on it the nearer the bone the sweeter the flesh... Do you feed me because I can’t bite when I’m eating? Later, I am alone with my indigestion, closely watching the food that enters my mind and choking on it in my solitude. 8. How about some hearts for desert? A light perversion, good for the liver. They are bitter but that has it’s charm. Especially if you are still hungry. 9. Aren’t you hungry? You must eat to maintain the level you must eat! I eat myself as a matter of personal preference slowly chewing through the soles of my feet to the marrow of my plexus. 10. I can’t stop. The black hole inside of me is ever expanding I swallow all time and matter shopping. Shopping is important. It gives people jobs and keeps them from being hungry. But I am still hungry. I think they are too. 11. A: I’m not hungry for your food. I refuse to eat it. B: You can’t. You must eat your pudding and your muesli it’s the healthy option. A: I’m not hungry for your food. I want to cook my own. I declare hunger strike. B: You must eat now you will eat our food you will eat our food or we will eat you funneling obedience straight into your stomach how do you like it now? thick pipe pushing its way through your rebellious mouth and past the epiglottis . . . Are you still hungry? 12. I AM hungry my meat is your poison I want to feed you to the dogs this thing is eating me alive 13. The spice pantry of my feelings is burning. I don’t know who or what set it on fire, it doesn’t matter. The whole town has been gobbled up by clouds of spicy smoke burning eyes and mouths, eruptions of irritated mucus. Keep your windows shut, lest flavor come in. The firemen are on red alert: explosions within the spice warehouse a ton of red peppers and a ton of black ones kamikaze in nanoseconds, setting flame to the neighboring coriander and chillies. Rivers of molten brown sugar flow into the streets, melting car tires freezing people into a moment in time until rescue squads extract them. Meanwhile, the cardamom is burning with a blue flame, the air is fragrant with cinnamon and cloves, people leave their tasks, confused by the strong scent of freedom The force of the spicy explosions sends the corrugated tin roof flying into one of the fire engines. Miraculously, no casualties. The heat melts all metal within a 2 mile radius gold drips from bewildered fingers of spouses and virgins ... The fire burns for days. The town smells like a dish fit for the gods. until there are no spices left all have burned. From now on, meals will be bland. This is ok most but not for me. I like my food to be sinful. Because I am still hungry for love. based on a true story