Soup Kettle

Soup Kettle

another bone not yet so

old

to have gone flavorless

over the fire the pot

boils

waves of steam

rising

and rolling, spinning

to the top,

the bone

Hunger is a brother

who reminds you of Able, his

skull

the sunken cranium

the eye socket

blind with the rich soil

you knew so well

the soil now

bearing thorns

leaving you hungry

to be satiated

is to find a new hunger

to become emptiness

a vacuum

an absence boiled dry

an then to hear

that one bleached bone

still rattling at the bottom