Several years ago I discovered
how easily love and food are confused,
when I thought I was in love with someone
but really it was a skipped lunch,
forgive me, I was young,
passions being what they were
were somewhat equivalent, mixed-up,
the highest anything,
stars without firmament, colors huddled
in the back shelf of a dark closet.
And even when I got my wish,
her sitting in front of me,
all I could think about
was cannoli, biscotti.
How embarrassing! My stomach
growled and my heart leapt.

Previously published in "Mine," Ausable Press, 2007

About the author: Tung-Hui Hu is the author of two books of poetry, "Mine" (2007) and
"The Book of Motion" (2003); his writing has also appeared in The New
Republic, Ploughshares, Gastronomica, and Martha Stewart Living Radio.
He teaches at the University of Michigan.