I have to eat the meal, the plate, silverware, the table
or it all will be gone
never offered again
like a man
who would level cities
I feel the wood burning beneath my feet
While I am tied to a stake
Sentenced to burn
My family and neighbors cheering
It’s because of the ghost
That enters my mouth
Causing me to see gathering clouds as evil portent
But it is only the tale of a thousand damned souls
being whispered in my ear
It sounds like my own death foretold
When my woeful ghost departs,
I become giddy,
declaring myself Empress
to thoughts of sore starvation.
My mouth is a chasm.
I fill it and fill it
Still the hungry ghost rages,
behind the prison bars of my ribs,
suffering the random shocks from my heart.