Hunger

It creeps up on me
this emptied lack of life,
nourishment of the morning and midday
gone.

It wasn't much to start with
and now my belly is empty,
alone and groaning through a long night
like a tired old dog waiting
for anyone to come home.

My pockets are empty.
My head has forgotten
the last time I whistled.
My heart hits these ribs
like a prisoner clanging
the last tin cup
that was ever
made.