night eating

i shovel coal into the moonlight 
until it is buried. my tongue
has centipede legs. my teeth,
each a sugar cube. you ask me
why i feast alone & i tell you
i have a snow globe city i need to keep alive.
they are counting on me.
the day has too many eyes.
eyes in every spoon. eyes in the cupboard
& the closet & the sidewalk.
at night everything shuts. lock
the front door. in my parents' house
i used to sneak downstairs.
wading through television static
there would be the fruit on the counter
& the last box of generic oreos
in the drawer. placing the angel's face
on my tongue. letting her feet melt there.
i do not want to be nocturnal
but i also know that i am. it is
part of my migration. a journey
from one bowl to the next. 
there is a dietician hiding behind
the shower curtain. i carry a knife 
of just-in-case. i am not violent
but i am violet. light 
of the fridge door. let's not
speak of this meeting. let's pretend 
we just came here to plant a cherry tree.
here is the seed. here is my throat.
come & pick a trowel. 
i will tell them you are helping me. 
there is always cake 
to make it a birthday. i'll be as old 
as you want me to be.