appetite

I know that there’s a full meal here
if I could just get my fingers in it—

already now I
halfway-feel it,
sticky with oil,
reeking of sweetness.

I know that there’s enough to sate me
if I could just get my tongue around it—

crack it open
like a yolk-glutted egg
and suck at its shell
‘til it yields me its juices.

there’s enough to slake desire in this
if I could once get in the thick of it.

I know that there’s a full meal here.
I’m deathly, sickly sure of it.