Starvation

I hear it, the howl of hunger
day and night frantic in my face
my own hands clawing in my throat
nails scarring the days as I throw them up

Tormented by others abandoned elsewhere
who tear my memories to shreds
I hear them sing
hauling my wounds up out of time -- dense sea of pain -- my
four limbs quiet

The greatest wound
grows between my teeth
I hear that source of sound
I hear in my face the long dead
sing triumph and then sing it again
I thrust my hands into my throat
forcing a still channel screaming out

--Xue Di


*

For my dear concerned ones, I am fine. Dark days are few and far between. And actually it was my cervix that was bleeding, not my ovaries. Though ouch either way.

I love the hands in throat. I'd also love throat in hand.