five past seven

i.

upon coming home
i'm starving, low
more than blood sugar.

neighbors are barbequeing  
someone who was once  
stronger than me, but

wicked in the past life.
nothing in the fridge.
i read a play once:

this family kept going
to the fridge.
nothing

was ever there,
except artichokes
or something everyone

hated.  

ii.

in this play,
the sister wanted
to be a chicken

or an ovary
for her class project.
she couldn't believe

when her family ate
all the eggs.
her brother, who

played the crow,
lay in bed all
day, dreaming

about flying, which
was probably
just a metaphor

for getting laid.  

iii.

in college
i knew a guy
who literally

lived on rice
boiled in
chicken stock, and

vitamins.  every
day, the lowest
he could afford.

no wonder
he thought it
such a big deal

to bring bagels
when we first
met.  damn

the starving.

iv.

my fridge is
empty 
now.  it's been

that way for
weeks, even
though i

try to say,
"it's for the
move."  without

much, i
get sick of
eating.  who

knows, i might
be getting
ready for

being dead.



   --jennifer crystal chien