Hunger

my phantom limb

has a mouth

where the knee bends

teeth like razors

that bite

in night

when the earth falls still

sugar in the grille

that burns hot

on the calf

I started feeding her

oysters

trade

for the fleshy meat

of my thigh

sometimes she eats sand

a dog that bites the hand

as I offer grapes

and day old bread

and moths that fold

around the lamp

at my bedside

at 4 and 5 and 6am

her stomach growls

I flip the switch

she’s getting hungrier

all the time

her smile puckering

as I slide lemons

between thighs

haul a tire

I found in the road

something to tire the jaw

she crushed light bulbs

in her fangs one night

nervous,

as she looked toward the dog

no you can’t have her, I said

a snarl

I brought her a raw steak

from the fridge

slid it between sheets

a howl

but her appetite,

it grows and grows

the next night,

I bring her a whale

that’s been beached

I wake inside its skeleton

and she’s happy and fat

and sleeping

but tomorrow

her hunger returns

I feed her a house

and the books that live inside

I drag great humps of lawn

to her feeding place

buckets of sea water

to wash down her thirst

a gas tank

I bake her a birthday cake

lick the frosting

belly of combustion

she eats the candles

without making a wish

I tear down the ceiling fan

and she crushes it in one bite

battery acid oozing

down her knee-like chin

the television remote

I didn’t need

to watch it anyway

I fed her a bar of soap

scrub your mouth,

dirty girl, I thought

she laughed

and burped bubbles.

I’ve never heard her speak.

I fed her the tiles

from the bathroom shower

hangers thrown one by one

I fed her a blade

I fed her the sun

I fed her a rope

and a roll of film

a stack of letters

followed by the mailbox

a flashlight

a box of pins

I fed her a scream

I fed her a laugh

and a piece of my arm

take this

and that

and this

and this

and that

and this

and this

and this

I fed her my fist

and the left side of my chest

bone-bare cavern

of fallen breast

my heart, a thump

in her throat

I crawl inside

her jaw

take my wrist

my neck

my waist

my hip

take my sleep

and my sorrow

and my hair

and my chin

take my me

so that I may rest

she clamped down

and I became air

a little hiss

as I became atmosphere

find me

in your astronaut suit

and in the balloons

at the party

in your soup

and in your lungs

find me in the suitcase

and in the dish soap

flung round the jump rope

your loaded gun

I’m living here

and there

and there

and here

and there

and here.