5:32 PM
May 8, 06

From "Rekinding of Faith
one of my books on the shelf
Feb 10, 1985

I mourn the loss of the belly I had
that could schomp down
without penalty to be paid later,
a bagel, a bagel with cream cheese,
a hot buttered bagel, bacon
bacon and scrambled eggs--hot
scrambled by someone else,
in the dorm at college.
All This was available in abundance
trays steaming, I walk down
the line and ate cereal, milk,
cinnamon rolls somewhere in my past.
To that place I travel back to find it no long exists
in my present.
Stones, rocks, I sit down
to a plate of toasted illusions.
Tasty, once out of sight inside me,
they become heavy weighted chaos,
churning acids and alkali,
bits and pieces of rejected experience
my stomach doesn't want.
Midnight malaise, bowel eruption,
blood pain like earthquakes
send a message that says
eat differently,
live for other reasons than eating food.
Feed yourself with other things.
You are not what you were.

© 2006, Leslie Goldman,
Your Enchanted Gardener