i’ll eat the poem
i tried
but it wasn’t kentucky fried
those overstuffed eagles
we dine on
we all got fat before we starved
there were so many bird poems
in those days
to chew
i couldn’t swallow
stuffing game hens with letters
like breaths
with the rhythm of a hospital administrator
trying to explain a turn away
because of insurance
such sing-song staccato
controlled, precise
propranolol
coursing through the veins
the voice began to merge
between that of the u.s. poets,
and the hospital administrators, and the bank teller,
and even the register of the politicians?!
(except for those who won)
those who won screamed!!!!!
it was weird that the poets
didn’t think they could also start a punk band
and instead
commemorated things
like benjamin franklin’s turkeys?!
and the feather’s shape
falling from the trees?!
i scavenged for a feather to eat
an eagle to stuff with dollar bills
fresh
after failing
its death free fall
of a mating dance 
i could relate, in fact
i was an eagle!!!!!!
majestic
white
stupid
-ly choosing
a dangerous plummet
as a way to attract sex
what else was there to do?
i needed a bird poem
to write
i needed
the first-hand experience
of watching
a country
fall
into
the ground

what are the economics of eating?
i chew before i swallow
leaving you to gasp
before my last taste.

it tastes like medicine, pouring
down the throat.
a poison if you don't mind it—
the poor are taught to believe
that fasting works, that hunger’s just agency.

but i don’t believe
in rights to give away
i don’t believe
that sorrow’s just a choke the weak
couldn't hold.

it makes sense to snore.
it makes sense to hold onto your lips
before they fly away.

i was mad at the poem
for existing and not functioning
not inviting me on vacation
or holding my hand

the poem just really wanted a drink
at a dive bar
where the locals are familiar with it
and forgive its faults, know
not to expect too much
or an early wakeup call
from that spot on the stool

“keep it open or closed”
“do you know what you want yet”
“is this what you ordered”
“thanks for coming by”

units of measurement
units of poetry
i drank several ounces of lyrics
until I forgot my own name

Biographical Statement

Laura Paul is a writer and artist. Her book, Film Elegy, was released in 2024 from PRROBLEM Press. Her book, Total Art, was released in 2025 from Lavender Ink. To find out more, visit: laurapaulwriter.com or @laura_n_paul on Instagram.