Rations (Poetry)

(i) Short Rations

Counting calories
has turned out to be
a noisy diet.

A voice inside of me
howls incessantly
only feeding keeps
it quiet.

(ii) Extra Rations

I ate a cheese & pickle sandwich
today.
It sat on the table saying
“Eat me.”
So I did.

All afternoon the taste
of pickle lingered
like
a thank you.

(iii) No Rations

The freezer is bare —
simply nothing in there
the cupboard is empty
as well

and Jack the canary
is watching me — wary
as though such a birdbrain
can tell

I’m desperate for scraps
leftovers perhaps
but our dog woofed the lot
for his tea

and then licked the bowl clean
like an eating machine
not the tiniest crumb
left for me.

(iv) Double Rations

It was only small.
The packet said
two servings but
it didn’t look all
that much to me
piled on the plate
just a few chunks of meat
swimming in a gravy sea.

No veg. No rice
accompaniment. I only ate
the main course
nothing else
yet it was oddly filling
tasting kind of sickly-rich.
Too late I guessed
less is often more.