Ten days that shook the world

I got my first letter, a boy of fourteen
An eighth grade student, older like a year
The girl as if sheltered to my empty stomach
Like writa, a hunger impassable, but rice.
Not the baked bread crumbs, not fish, neither hominid.
Encumbered to the throat of an enormous flower - I remained
My head sprang out, seeking endlessly all and sundry hours.

Covetous young boys in torn shorts would incite me
My prejudiced hunger watched them gobble in vanity
My body opened a million mouths of hunger, and I roamed
Around alleys far off , my mind a juvenile kingdom - framed
My body to ten different crystals, unvanquished in ten days
That immortality will become the little boy of fourteen
Unerring efflux of writa's aroma - ten days that shook my world.