Strange Hunger, Strange Desire

two poems on the golden nostalgia of Fall 🍂

Photo by Zdeněk Macháček on Unsplash

Autumn I

After you left,

I spent months studying

the hunger of birds.

The half-curved O of their mouths,

the night hollowing their throat.

The tar-black song of their fever.

The brown seeds their mum

brought them every dawn,

even when she couldn’t find

herself anything to eat.

How aware I became of my own hunger,

watching someone else feed.

What I would give to have

a half-wing

sprout from my arms—

to live in a city where no one

can decode the alphabets

of my small, bruised name.

Autumn II

this evening light:

like an unpeeled orange

my dog loves to play with.

how easy it is to love decay

when it’s lounging opposite you:

on your silk-pink mattress.

there are so many things

i want to tell you.

I’m 26 & still afraid of my father.

yesterday, my hands

cracked from lifting

an aluminium-brown can.

at night

a baby moth

went to sleep in

my palm’s creased folds.

little did she know

it was comforting for me

to know that my pain

could be put to use.

that it could be

a home for someone

this tiny

& hungering.

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Autumn & Childhood Nostalgia (October writing theme)

This month in my writing community: Wildflowers are Prayers—we will explore Autumn, Childhood Nostalgia, & Memories of Places we can no Longer Touch.

Is Fall a season of weathering— or the joy of letting go? What is it to write from the lens of a leaf untethering itself from a tree? What are the things you find easy to part with? What do you struggle with letting go of? This month: we will delve into the yellow-golden of autumn leaves, childhood nostalgia, and what it feels to touch places that no longer exist.

We meet for our live sessions on the 6th of October, the 13th of October, the 20th of October, and the 27th of October. Discounted pricing ends tomorrow. Reserve your spot here, or in the link below.