Nourish
You see the boy gleaming underneath the neighbor's
motion detectors, face cut
with the clothesline's shadow, like his mouth
was frothing with tar,
or blueberries, or maybe that's what hunger looks like,
like a forty minute drive,
like gas money, and I want to ask him how much he spent
to get here, so I can offer half, or at least
know how much I am worth, so later, when he's pulling out
my spine with whatever instrument
makes the least amount of noise, I can gauge the right amount
of soap, and boil, or maybe just lay in
its filth, like that dinner table with the plates rusting over,
how I promised to clear it last week,
but just fell asleep on the couch with my pants unbuttoned.
by Hieu Minh Nguyen
Hieu Minh Nguyen is a native of Saint Paul, Minnesota. He has represented both of the National Twin Cities poetry slam teams, He has coached youth, and collegiate slam teams in the Twin Cities, and his work has also been featured in publications such as The Legendary, decomP Magazine, and PANK. He also works at a haberdashery.