Binge Eating in 2067

by Melissa Broder

Melissa Broder

Wild man is the same as me
starved into fractions.

We all are, the whole colony
raised on antennae

sugar cane screenshots
pixelated onions.

But I have a jaw that seeks chunks
and he has the heart of a fat man.

In his cabin we drink vapor gravy
snarf dust fowl, sediment meats.

Nothing is enough
he hangs me from the bunks

then slaps my growling stomach
until I spew static

making space for ash fish
and elemental octopi.

I find a thighbone in his mattress
and think of friends gone missing.

I hear my human heart beat
and wonder why he has utensils.

When he cooks a real live cassoulet
flesh and oil, no hoax

I turn my face from the tray
and put my fingers in his mouth.

Last updated April 03, 2023