Some appetizer to the whole meal
of this new tenderness.
My breasts hugged my ribs, fat
with milk. What did we eat
that early night out?
Did your feet graze
mine under the table?
I don’t remember the sunset,
or how hurried we were
as you paid the parking meter.
In my daze she is hunger
crying for me, always
some place I cannot get to.
Maybe it was tacos, lime and salt
rocks, or teriyaki bowls so fast
it was nearly take-away. I do not crave
those early days at all,
only the way I knew food never
tasted so good, so needed.
Katy Luxem (she/her) grew up in Seattle and studied creative writing at the University of Washington. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Rattle, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, Poetry Online, The National Poetry Review, North Dakota Quarterly, Appalachian Review, and The Mum Poem Press edited by Liz Berry, among other journals. She currently lives in Salt Lake City with her partner, kids, and dogs.
Eunoia Review 