A poem by Michael T. Young
It used to be a slice, just enough to fill you,
keep you going. These days, it’s edited
down to a crumb, whatever scrap can stick
to the brain in a sweeping glance of the room.
A pause long enough to say, “You, there,
I like your sneakers.” But then on to something
else. That’s the history of how the whole pie
was scattered. Of course, there’s now
nothing to tell since the telling was lost
in the scattering. It used to be the news
would let us in on parts of it that others
kept to themselves, like a family secret.
But even journalists seem to have no idea
these days: shuffle the lines of the story
as if it didn’t matter what order they came in,
add a twist to the plot, or tell us a joke.
It’s a kind of diversion from the empty cabinets.
Although some of us wander at night,
a little delirious, lost but looking down alleys
and through abandoned buildings, hoping
to stumble on a larger piece to bring back
to the kitchens, serve it up so we can be filled
with something other than hunger.
Michael T. Young’s fourth collection, The Beautiful Moment of Being Lost, was published by Poets Wear Prada. His forthcoming collection, Turpentine, was accepted for publication by Terrapin Books. His chapbook, Living in the Counterpoint, received the 2014 Jean Pedrick Award. He received a Fellowship from the New Jersey State Council on the Arts and the Chaffin Poetry Award. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous journals including Cimarron Review, Comstock Review, The Cortland Review, Lunch Ticket, and The Potomac Review. His work is also in the anthologies Phoenix Rising, Chance of a Ghost and in Rabbit Ears: TV Poems. He lives with his wife, children, and cats in Jersey City, New Jersey.