Hunger, as Salvation

Ariel K. Moniz

This moment, sun speckled and innocent—

I speak of prophecies, i plant seeds

of affection in your perfect, peachy ears,

and it means that I am thinking of tomorrow.

I await their blooming like all great pleasures,

though i do not know in what season they may come

or what balm of tenderness they may carry to me

as you lay your head upon the pillow beside mine.

I hope for lavender to calm me and bring the bees,

those little archangels of better days and July nights,

or rosemary, to remind me what it is to desire you,

like a meal hours off but simmering, a promise

that spills out the late afternoon windows.

This moment here, sun drenched and priceless

soothes like sitting down to the dinner table

filled with the sun-bronzed faces of dear ones,

or the first bite of that long labored meal.

I want the lingering afternoon hours of waiting.

I want to feel the hunger rumble in my stomach

thick and as alive as August storms, if it is for you.

I want to pine for the taste, that savory relief

and I want it every day of this wandering life.

I want to know you, long summer day

gelato-fingered savior, who I long for.

I want to know you, and I want to know

in my sunshine bones that the craving

is just as blissful as the full belly.