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Hospitality - Poetry

Fractio Panis

A man builds a fire in the dark,

warming his hands over crackling trash.

He needs a shave.

A woman approaches the barrel,

keeping her distance.

She does not look up.

His eyes flicker like glass stained

the color of blood and soil and lit from within.

“Are you hungry?” he says to the woman

who is full of nothing.

He hands her his bread and waits

as though he holds all of time

and space in this firelight.

He waits and does not expect.

And she eats, aches.

And she is home.

- Courtney Thrash