“Eating Like a Bird, It’s Really a Falsity” by Jessica Mehta

 “Eating Like a Bird, It’s Really a Falsity”

—Norman Bates

You don’t just decide to start eating again, it happens slow,

a groggy crawl and stumble out of a dream. 

I didn’t choose to starve myself,

I didn’t choose to stop. It was a cycle, my own metamorphosis

full of Kafka leanings and sopping new wings. 

Built up like an orgasm, I can’t tell you

the foreplay, the spots touched that got me there,

the details of the teasing

or the fetishes reveled in (that’s sacred)

but I can tell you this—I woke up

in Washington Park, stomping the trails behind the zoo.

Maybe it was the humbling houses of the West Hills,

or the reservoirs spreading like spilt champagne 

at my feet, but on that day

I woke with a start. Past the rose test garden poached

with pale tourists, past the fountain where droplets sound like church bells,

I climbed to the playground at the top of the hill,

slipped onto a swing and learned 

all over again

how easy it is to fly. My god, it’s a lovely thing

to face your fragility and still take flight. But birds,

“birds really eat a tremendous lot,” so give me the fat ones

the thick ones, the ones burrowed down deep,

fill me with their earthiness until I choke from the grit,

desperate for air, neck arching and jaw flexing,

bones slight and delicate as a song.

Jessica (Tyner) Mehta is a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, interdisciplinary artist, multi-award-winning poet, and author of over one dozen books. Place, space, and personal ancestry inform much of her work. She’s also the Editor-in-Chief of Crab Creek Review and owner of an award-winning small business. MehtaFor is a writing services company that offers pro bono services to Native Americans and Indigenous-serving non-profits.