from my unpublished second collection
Whoever said hunger’s an emptiness, never went hungry;
it’s a ghost that chills your blood at night to feed you to your darkness.
It’s a pet that sits beside you while you watch TV.
It curls at the top of the stairs so you might not notice it, rocking in place like a child who’s been beaten so often it’s learning to become invisible, but may yet grow up before you know it, or may yet learn telekinesis, and with its bright eyes, come calling.
It’s a healing stone that’ll kill you if you wear it too long around your neck.
You swoon like an English lady on the eve of the War To End All Wars, the one that pulled the monarchs from their thrones.
You sit down in a cockpit; the thrusters kick in; faster than sound; lighter than the atmosphere; everything clear and focused, all thoughts marching to a single drummer.
Hunger’s a pair of military goggles enhanced with the latest software.
Up here, there’s no going back. Only discipline, to believe in. Only horror, to gain or to lose.
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First published in Event
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images and text © by Alpay Ulku
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