Lessons in Hunger

Do you like me?
I asked the blue blazer.
No answer.
Silence bounced out of his books.
Silence fell off his tongue
and sat between us
and clogged my throat.
It slaughtered my trust.
It tore cigarettes out of my mouth.
We exchanged blind words,
and I did not cry,
and I did not beg,
but blackness filled my ears,
blackness lunged in my heart,
and something that had been good,
a sort of kindly oxygen,
turned into a gas oven.

Do you like me?
How absurd!
What’s a question like that?
What’s a silence like that?
And what am I hanging around for,
riddled with what his silence said?

– Anne Sexton

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One thought on “Lessons in Hunger

  1. and something that had been good,
    a sort of kindly oxygen,
    turned into a gas oven.

    Oh yeah, oh yeah, I know that feeling, rather recently in fact. A love letter written, pouring my heart out, for his eyes only, that he decided to make into a paper airplane so that all who would, could grab it.

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