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Ends Meat

By Shrief Fadl Tell me a little about yourself

which self?

how little?

the self that sits before me,

your favorite self, if you have one

the one you plan on wearing

most days

Oh, he’s a real go getter

he goes and he gets, and he forgets

his family and friends and fortunes

so dedicated is he as an employee

he finds the profit motive as motivating

as avoiding certain destitution and death

Where do you see

yourself in 25 years?

I’m barely here as it is I can’t

imagine insisting on existing

for much longer, where do I see myself

other than in the past? Isn’t the future

a picture that failed to load?

How about ambitions?

Ambitions are superstitions

dressed up in business casual

Then what do you want?

Money

What do you really want?

More money

No, what do you really want

Nothing.

What?

The Buddha would be impressed

at my complete lack of yearning

And are you impressed?

With the lack of wanting

comes a lack of everything else

So why do you want this job?

Does a twig ask the current where it’s going?

No.

Does the debris decide where the tornado blows?

No.

Well then, there you go.

But are you a twig?

No.

And are you debris?

No.

But I sure wish

hope and pray to be

I thought you didn’t wish for

anything?

I only hunger for hunger

for an absence, a missing tooth

your tongue never forgets. Like a cave

that carves itself a rock and walks out

I wish to find an absence somewhere

with the shape of myself.

 

Ends Meat features in Erato's Issue III: Hunger - available in print and online.

 

About the Author:

Shrief Fadl is a 35-year-old Egyptian writer, currently living in Vancouver, BC. Before he came to live in Canada, he was born and raised in Kuwait, studied in Lebanon and worked in Dubai, Doha, Abu Dhabi, and Cairo. His first poem is due to be published in April by the Sunflower Station Press based in Los Angeles. He also had my first play reading last year with Blackout Theatre in North Vancouver, BC.


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1 Comment


Terry Trowbridge
Terry Trowbridge
Aug 12, 2023

I hope this poem becomes a scene in another dramatic production, either stage or radiodrama.

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