By Madison
Date: 11 January 2000

table for one

      tonight my stomach growls 
                  to dine alone 
                to hoard my gift of solitude 
          that feels like holy water mending
gutters overflow the backstreet curbs I walk
in shoes you disapprove 
soggy squeaking canvas wet with clay 
                 cold on biting cold
    I feed my soul 
    I own my skin
       I feed my skin, I own my soul.




M Madison
29 dec 99