Katia Engell
Baby is possessed by a wind-eater hungry ghost
prayed too hard to a hurricane
of false idols ‘til this false idol became Baby
and Baby let it
Baby spends the rest of their life feeding
hungry ghost. in the same tightrope breath
they exorcise, eat only horseradish for a week
try to burn it away, or give it wings
Baby thinks wind-eater makes them
special, strong. they slap hail and thunder unto
those not safe in the inner eye
at some point in time, this is each of us
caught in the storm
slap, slap, slap, Baby slaps
Baby makes me rice pudding and places
ramekin of whitish goo at the bottom of my stairs
offering too-tender
I spit out at first spoonful, suspiciously spiced
it is made of horseradish
Baby, don’t you know? I don’t have a hungry ghost
never made a deal with the devil
keep that shit away from me—please
please please keep it away
Baby spins in circles chasing their own tail
hungry, hungry, always hungry
for something, anything, give me yours
Your wind, yummy yummy mixed
with a brutish fistful of horseradish
Baby has no idea they’ve become
the wind-eater, stealing the air
from our tight lungs, swept up in Baby’s doom tornado
horseradish spun into everything yet
no root, no end, no beginning
chaos ouroboros Baby is hungry-ghost
Baby, I must leave you to spin
and spin and slap and spin, you cannot stop
I must go or you will eat us both, leave us
bleeding cherries atop a spilled puddle
of creamy, horseradish pudding.
—
Katia Engell is an artist and poet living in Toronto, Canada. When she is not collaging, writing, or collaborating with friends, you’ll likely find her working creatively with people living with dementia. Her poetry can be found in Epiphany Magazine and Vermillion Lit, and has been featured on Read a Little Poem.