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.