Poem by Zinnia

A Hunger Poem
There are people in the world so hungry, that God cannot appear to them except in the form of food.
— Mahatma Gandhi

I’m hungry.
Not for love or
adventure or
anything like that.

I’m literally hungry.
For food, you know?
My body is starting to smell,
releasing the putrid scent of the starving.

I’m skipping meals,
not because of some diet,
but because my mama
is dirt-shit poor.

She works for people,
for non-immigrant people,
who’ve never known a day
of hunger in their lives,

who throw their produce scraps
into ceramic compost bins
and charcoal lid liners
to keep the smell out.

And they’re either nice to her
or not nice to her,
but it doesn’t really matter --
the cash never adds up.

And I’m sitting here,
my brain is checking out,
can’t concentrate on nothin’
except the all-consuming

criminal sensations in my stomach,
the aching, clawing, throbbing,
it’s got my whole body in its violence
this incessant craving for grub.

I don’t need much,
see I’m not fancy
but a glass of milk and some mac ‘n cheese --
I’d really appreciate these please!

​My future is here
I can see it now
it is receding
into dazed desperation

Zinnia is a fallible humanist, a polygamous reader, a nature nut, an apprehensive idealist. An explorer of geography and philosophy, she writes to process her observations and experiences as she goes through this thing called life. She lives in Apex, NC, with her husband and two zany dogs.

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