By Sean G. Daly
I couldn’t still be hungry.
I ate her soup from the freezer, butternut squash with leeks. She forgot it was there when she left me. She took her clothes. The pots and the ladle. The cat, but not the soup. I’m not anxious, at least I don’t think I am, but I’m alone. This is how I wanted it. So her voice wouldn’t be in my head with that tone of not enough.
“You’re never content,” I told her. “Not never!”
Now I have the silence wished for and the soups all gone, but the hunger remains.