Kitchen Table MFA (Madwomen): Hungry
Words By Kayla Sargeson, Art By Gordon Johnson
This poem is part of the Kitchen Table MFA, a series that showcases writing communities through interviews and creative writing.
The Savannah air feels wet and Rita
sticks her hand out the window, wiggles
her fingers, and slides them down my arm.
In Pittsburgh, there’s someone who says
no one loves you like I do
and it’s something I carry with me
like a lucky rabbit’s foot.
Driving down Abercorn
there’s a lazy light I’m dazzled by.
I’m hungry for heat,
sweat dripping from forehead to breast,
hungry to touch the tips of trees I like so much,
the ones that bend over like they’re looking for something
and don’t seem to care if they ever find it.