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Hunger
The mirage fluttered like the rolls of colossus
As the lips and fingertips were engulfed
By the rapine of sensation and sedation
And it wilted the sinewy pillars to kneel
Now you are postured groveling
Inches from the pristine façade of the crowds
You picked up their crumbs, sever the cord
Tethering you to pride and prejudices
Just to dine with their swaying feet
Aren't we all famished?
This hunger dazes me.
But I am courteous enough not to
Bite the hands that fed me.
poem
by
Norman Santos
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