Claire Huang

A Midnight Meal

Filled with sleep,
I drift down the dark hall.
Portraits of ghostly figures gaze
Disapprovingly at my drowsy movements
As I stumble down the creaky,
Not-meant-to-be-sneaky stairs,
Pursuing the scent of a nighttime snack.
The glistening, silver tribute
Awaits me in the distant room,
Beckoning me to come closer.
Suddenly filled with energy, my legs bound towards
The new source of brilliance and light.
Hands gripping the icy smooth handle,
I am jolted awake by a rush of chilled air.
From scattered slices of cake and spicy ramen noodles,
To leftover pizza and frozen tacos,
My evening buffet presents itself to its ravenous monarch.
After a bite and a crunch, a slurp and a munch,
I awake – finding myself sitting in a tub of ice cream,
Buffalo wings in my ears and pasta in my hair.


Copyright © 2002-2011 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose © 2002-2011 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission.