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An ESME Poetry Showcase Award submission

Once I ate a steak with my bare hands. On the hotel room floor, on the stained carpet, beside the queen bed.

While my son slept between feedings, I scooped up mashed potatoes and shoveled them in my mouth. I thought of diggers at construction sites. There was no fork or spoon. The steak, rare with blood, the wilting asparagus, oil slick on my fingers. The wine I poured into a glass. I was all animal that night, wishing for flourless chocolate cake and milk to wash it down.

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