Wake up ravenous. Eat

the sorel from the earth. Eat

 

your words. Eat cake. Sustain

your curves sloping like rocks

 

on the bank of a cold river

in which you drive the current.

 

Don’t curse your pangs. Your body

is not dead weight you carry.

 

You won’t wake up one morning

ascended. Consider the sun

 

sending light at 299,792 kilometers

per second. How it filters

 

through your blinds and makes lines

on your floor. Even the fullness of light

 

hits rock bottom. Look around,

and there is life, such an absurd generosity

 

woven like scales on a moth’s wing

and fed to swallows.