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Poetry, Grades 10 – 12: Third Place
Hungry — Raleigh Kibort
It radiates
uninhibited
underneath my fingertips.
It sits
behind my belly button
churning, turning, gravitating.
It lays
on my chest
with a constant, ever-pulsing
pull.
It settles
at the base of my ankles
flexing, pushing forward
levitating
on the subtleties of syntax.
It crawls towards Fitzgerald,
inflates with the nuances of Dickenson.
It’s built on Seuss,
Founded on Silverstein,
Fed on Wilder.
It devours diction,
Needs Narration,
Manifests in Metaphors.
It will not cease,
It will not sleep.
Neither shall I.
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