First Prize Winner -- Henry Crawford

The Fruits of Famine 

On those nights we traced 
the shapes of fruit until the dark 
became our eyes. 

On those nights we left our fields  
unhearing the crack of broken roots, 
the silence of dying ground. 

On those nights, twilight filled the deserts 
of our crossing with the vermillion breath 
of watermelon. 

On those nights, the stars seeded the skies 
above the camp. Jackfruit guards 
stood still as celery stalks. 

On those nights we dreamed like you 
of strawberry days on porcelain plates. 
On those nights I made an apple out of sand 
and watched it blow away. 


To hear the poet presenting this poem, click HERE  -- ​The Fruits of Famine.mp3 by Food Poetry