You can give a tumor a cute name,
but like a hurricane it still
might kill you. A small body inside
a bigger body, an un-gardening
of limb and trunk.
All day sharks ram
the ocean to keep from drowning,
a constant moving panic. No,
not even sorrow knows her fate.
I love how the fields foam
I love how earth inhabits
many appetites. The baby
from the same stream as the hungry
lion, all sun and flame,
each rib a gone-soft gold
in the mouth. All it takes
is two sharp barbs of a hook
to pull a small city up from the sea,
all eyes and flushed gills,
a pearl-grey brokenness
Fear, like a wave ,
looking for something solid to break
against. This hunger that is ours,
for now, for less.
Kristene Kaye Brown is a mental health social worker. She earned her MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her work has previously been published, or is forthcoming, in DIAGRAM, Columbia Poetry Review, Harpur Palate, Meridian, Nashville Review, and others. Kristene lives and works in Kansas City.