HUNGRY BABY

By Philip Tetley-Jones

Mouth moves, gestures, reaches.

To live so obviously is suggestive.

Your breath an unasked question.

Hidden in plain sight, the half-light of your prescence.

Your skin whispers.

Your being here may be a mistake.

You may never outgrow this yearning.

The unsought sunlight is making you squint.

All life is a staving off.

thirty-five winters from now

you will manage a regional sales office,

and driving home one night,

will turn hard left down a minor road

and arrive at a house with no lights.

You will sit outside in silence for fourteen minutes.

#darkpoetsclub