ART

“Notebook Entry”

by Michael Chowning

It is so exhausting to be hungry / for hunger / I step through the six inch / glass and glare at the faithful rifle / loaded to the brim / with escape / I am younger than the minimum / listed on the barrel / and yet the hole beckons my hands / the bullets sprawled with the nights / I crafted them / I hold this color with my hands / and watch them turn blue / knowing it is too soon / the recoil more than enough proof / of my desire / as a hole enters the ceiling / this home evidence / that I am not the right type / the holy stereotype at my feet / another poet measuring his scars / but every color of remembrance / holds different syllables / tonight an orchestra of peeling / and peeling until the final layer sheds to / reveal the work of painting / the shadows blue / of learning the arch of the bullet / until its path creates an image / like an echo / in a minor key / I sing the tune / of its existence / into the solitude / and learn only / the complexities of my tone / which is more food than I’ll ever need / to communicate this absence / dear nobody in particular / I want six inch heels / to peer over this facade of / a sunlit 3 a.m. / a weapon worth only / however much emptiness it requires / to wield / see the tomorrow / is a difficult thing / to see when forging yesterday / into a reconstruction / rather than a war / I am worth whatever false hunger / I endure in the brightest hours / of the night / I hold the rifle up / to my mouth / and taste the sweet escape / of understanding / which is to say that / the absence of hunger / is a marvelous thing / when lit among the cavernous / mouth of darkest desire.