Hunger

by Naomi Pattison-Williams

Morning swells like a leaven

as I follow my hunger

in search of a word, a phrase, that twist

of singing flame until

the last traces of night dissolve and

I hear come, have breakfast.

I tear myself away from the search,

turn to face the small fire

over which soft bread warms and fish

sputters as its body yields to flame.

Take this longing from my tongue

begs Leonard Cohen, even as

I want to ask

if he means it.

The fish tastes like charcoal and salt, leaves

a film of oil around my lips. Hours later, I find

a hint of honeycomb

lingering

on my tongue.

---

Naomi is grateful to live at asiniskaw sipisis, Treaty 6 territory in rural Alberta, raising two little boys and writing about life as it happens. Having written a poetry chapbook as part of her MA in Theology and the Arts at Regent College, her poetry has also appeared in CRUX Journal, Ekstasis, and Fathom Magazine.