Ex Ovo Omnia

In the waiting room, a photograph

on the magazine-tiled table: the skeletal remains

of a bird, delicate as needles, curled

over speckled rock. The beaked skull

scissored an angle of air, wing bones parted

in a pantomime of flight

where stubborn feathers still clung.

The obscene, bleach-white ribs

like an unhinged bracelet encircled

the pellets of plastic that had starved

the bursting animal dead.

 

After, instead of the gray-scale

ultrasound, alien as Jupiter’s striated shell,

the nurse at my side had searched, eyes pulled

edge to edge as if she were scanning a passage

for a seed-sized heart in contraction,

 

I remembered the heart-sized body rotting

in a blast pattern of feathers and bone

tracing tongue-want and stomach-need,

ardor and immolation—venom’s root

is love. A bearable hunger begins.

 

***

Maggie Queeney holds MFA in Creative Writing from Syracuse University. Her work has appeared most recently in the Southern Poetry Review, The Southeast Review, and Handsome.

 

Advertisements

One comment

  1. Pingback: Table of Contents, Issue 13 | Matter

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s