- Hunger Addresses Her in Midlife
Remember, I invented you—separated you from the stars,
gave myself to youselflesslyso that you would survive.
But then you turnedon me, refusedthe seeds I laid at your feet.
Now you have gone back to the beginningto learn the original lesson again.
It will be harder this time.Like the gray squirrel digginghole after hole in the front yard [End Page 50] as the snow melts—you have forgotten where you have hiddenyour many desires.
Believe me, when I urgedsublimate, darling, I was givingyou the only advice I could. And didn't itsend up exotic, spectacular gardens after all?In the most unexpected places, no less?
But you are much older now,you have fallen back on clichésto guide you—
If you need meyou know where to find me:I slip into your tight black dress. [End Page 51]
Jennifer Burd received an MFA degree in creative writing from the University of Washie ington in 1994. She has worked as an instructional designer, editor, and newspaper reporter. Currently, when not dancing, taking photographs, or thinking about metaphor, she edits books for High/Scope Press in Ypsilanti, MI. Burd's poems have appeared in The Bellingham Review, Southern Poetry Review, Eclipse, Modern Haiku, and the anthology Nobody's Orphan Child, among other publications. She resides in Ypsilanti, MI.