“Bottomless Pit” by Ken Chestnutt

In his core the hunger grows;
What to eat he never knows
An apple sits not far away;
He may eat it another day;
Perhaps some oatmeal or a bar
Of granola, homemade, not subpar
No, he’s a teenager, a growing lad
Less than a cow will make him mad

The fridge opens, he stands, with the doors flung wide
The cold leaks out, the light burns bright, while he decides

A whine is heard throughout the house
The rumble ringing of his grouse
There is a lack of chocolate milk
How has this happened, this horrible bilk
We his parents will rue this time
As he sits, sullen, wordless, an angry mime;
For the need for food drives this son
Eat in volume, eat in bulk, then go for a run

One day, maybe, there will be a turning of the tide;
But today, his mom and I can only sit and sigh.