Starvation

Hurray! Hurry! Come through the keyhole. Don't mind the rotting sashes, pass into the windows. Come, good news. I'm holding my apron to catch your plumpness. The largest pot shines with happiness. The slack walls of my purse, pulsing pudenda, await you with a new bride's longing. The bread bin gapes and the oven holds its cold breath. Hurry up! Hurry down! Good tidings. Don't wait out my misery. Do not play coy with my longing. Hunger has grown old and ugly with me. We hate from too much knowing. Come. Press out this sour beast which fills the bellies of my children and laughs at each eviction notice. Come!