Patricia Barber Follow

Everything is food, everything is fair game.
The second it’s gone is the second I crave
more animal, vegetable, mineral feed,
more fodder, more fuel, more cake and ice cream.
In Scythia, where the pickings are slim,
I’m gorgeous and grateful it’s “in” to be thin.
Wan and pale, I court emaciation
in high style and endless mastication.
With cheekbones and ribs that tighten my skin,
wildly attractive and seductive as sin,
the closer you come, the more you want me,
the more you want, the more you want to be free.
There’s no slaking of thirst, no quenching of need,
and there’s never, ever enough to eat:

When the Gods get even They think of me
While you’re fast asleep to your bed I creep
As my breath you breathe as I give you a kiss
As I take my leave I leave you with this
As you wake so you dream of fish fowl and beef
And there’s never ever enough to eat

Where inherited wealth meets fine French cuisine
Where oodles of truffles and tarts and terrines
Where gavage is an art and foie gras is fatty
Where quail duck lamb sugar butter and spaghetti
There desire is infectious and fulfillment is lean
And there’s never ever enough to eat

does an ocean deny a river?
would a fire spurn the wood it craves
for heat?
like Narcissus and his lover
you can never have the other
you can never turn away
you can never lick the plate
clean

When the coffers are empty in lieu of defeat
I deal my daughter for camembert cheese
Here the story leaves me to my own device
As lips teeth tongue savor self sacrifice
And now the Hunter is prey and the Hungry are meat
And there’s never ever enough to eat