Nightcrawler

Visiting home after the breakup

I consume every last morsel on my plate.

Mother forever monitoring

my “eating thing,”

she doesn’t know

my clever purge loophole.

Clearing the table,

I discreetly dispose of leftovers

with my mouth.

After everyone goes to bed

I continue to eat.

Raid cupboards.

Avoiding squeaky spots

on the new wood floor.

No sounds

as I stuff my face.

Paranoid of being caught,

I go for a walk in the inky midnight

make myself throw up in our field.

Here in the country

the stars shine

so much brighter,

I see the moon of my youth,

listen to the creek flowing

crickets pulsing, a choir of frogs

whose ancestors I chased

and know that what I’m doing

is fucked up.