April Poetry: Hunger

Poem #3 for National Poetry Month

This poem was written before I received my first heart transplant on January 6, 2006, which means this was probably first drafted in late 2005. Twenty years of healthy eating has passed since then.

The inspiration for this poem was the same as “Bone.” After I came off the ventilator following my multiple codes in 2004, I could only receive nutrition through a feeding tube. This captures the shock I felt when I saw my own skeletal remains in a full-length mirror.

This was originally published in Blue Villa Magazine.

Photo by Margarita Zueva on Unsplash

Hunger

By Dawn Levitt

Hunger grows like an animal inside my belly,
recalling my time in pregnancy,
how hunger visited me daily,
setting alarm bells in my stomach.

Then, I could have eaten non-stop,
but food was not available to me.
too poor to eat, too poor to live,
too hungry and weak to carry a child.

Now, food is abundant, but I cannot eat.
my throat is paralyzed, speechless.
feeding tube slowly trickles gruel
into my empty gut.

After twelve days of hunger, I don’t feel it anymore.
My stomach is numb, vacant, detached.
Now I only know thirst in my throat.
At night I dream of succulent fruits.

Forty-eight pounds wasted from my bones.
Hair falling out in clumps.
Malnutrition stalks me like a Holocaust refugee.
My bones a frame to stretch the canvas of my skin.

At the first look in a mirror, I sob.
Jutting hip bones, a ladder of ribs,
and my breasts, two empty sacks
that used to hold my greatest treasure.



Originally published Blue Villa Magazine December 2023