The Snack of Silence

Hello fridge

my old friend

we’re face to face at 3am

’Cause my belly softly won’t stop grumbling

and the glow of LED is summoning

when my hand

reaches out for one more slice

of cold fried rice

I taste

the snack of silence

And in the dark I stand alone

stretchy waistband, stretchy pride is gone

Every shelf a guilty little altar

leftover cake, slightly leaning, starting to falter

And my brain screams, “Dude, just eat a carrot, try compliance!”

Still I choose

the snack of silence

Tiny note

on the door

“Label food, this is a shared floor”

Office lunch from some forgotten Monday

smells like feet and questionable sundae

But I shrug

peel the lid and take a bite

pray I’ll survive the night

blessed by

the snack of silence

And coworkers say I’ve gone too far

“Who ate my stew from that blue jar?”

On the camera there’s a blurry gremlin

hoodie on, plastic fork, just tremblin’

HR prints out my face and warns of snack-related violence

Still I bow

to the snack of silence

Nutrition apps

fill my phone

counting sins in every scone

But the pie in break room keeps on calling

like a siren from a pastry stall-ing

And the words of every doctor

flash in neon on my screen

“Eat a bean…”

Yet I’m chewing in defiance

Now I’m home, the fridge light flares

half a pizza, three éclairs

I salute them like a loyal soldier

cheese and cream stacked on my shoulder

As my jeans gasp, “Why?”

and every button tests its science

I whisper

the snack of silence

(so quiet)

the snack of silence