Figure of four

 
 
 
I think about
hunger before  
we are born
 
those strange  
ways our eyes  
go searching  
for nurture,
 
how this space  
inside my hands
 
held every  
bruise, ass  
tear and
paddle
 
for undying  
hunger left  
unsung in  
the dark,
 
boiling in  
their blood
waiting to  
release a
new hymn.