Untitled

[Written 4 Mar 2007]

culled from the recesses
of an antiquated refrigerator
i appease my hunger
an obese woman inside
greedily feeling my way
through the mummified
assortments
ravenous, as i pick
and choose
among the dying
and already dead

sometimes an orange,
sometimes an onion
softened and rottened
by the chill
sometimes it’s leftover
chicken, shrunken
and dry sometimes
it’s an expired
milk carton
and the stench
briefly dulls
the senses

all cadavers
i might as well
be dead