-Hunger Gaze-
I am staring at a squirrel tail
that does not move.
She squats on the branch
five minutes looking the same
uninteresting direction.
Like she was trying to remember
if stream beds have sheets.
I think they do, but only at night
when the lamps are on and
you can see current smoothing out creases
and groping in the dark for an afghan.
Maybe squirrel is reliving that one time when Sherri was
over and dropped half her bagel.
Her plastic plate had divots all around
the edge, but they weren’t for stopping
gravity on baked goods.
The squirrel jerked more then,
and was crumb eager.
Now squirrel is drawing an analogue
with the facial muscles of Keanu Reeves.
There might be two expressions
but this movie
only has the first one.
Eventually she resumes,
like a paused DVD after
the machine thought you
must be finished with the bathroom by now.
But for a moment, we were both
jam on a bagel. Waiting to be
snatched up again
and consumed in secret.
