You starve while the table
settles under its own weight,
every dish warm,
every cup filled to the lip.
It has always been this way:
abundance in plain sight,
your bowl kept clean
by omission.
We offer brightness instead…
small entertainments,
soft distractions,
things that glitter long enough
to pass for nourishment.
You learn not to reach.
You learn the table flinches
at the sound of your hunger.
Say the wrong thing
and the plate is lifted.
Show the wrong face
and the bowl is cleared.
Think the wrong thought
and even the crumbs disappear.
Nothing here is scarce.
The feast has never lacked.
Your hunger is simply
what we choose
to maintain.
- UpsilonA