Shownotes
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.
More from Ariel K. Moniz ↓
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