Amanda Bubble Worries About the Food Chain
I get it: your reply to my prayer this morning to protect
those ducklings following their mother across the intersection.
When you said inside my head, Don’t worry. I made extras,
you were telling me it wasn’t actually my business
who you create to be food and who you create to be food later.
So it was sort of a bonus, I think, that you let me
see the crows and gulls pecking flattened yellow fluff
near the median on my way home this afternoon.
I get that those babies are being transubstantiated
right this minute into crow muscle and gull wing:
flesh reduced to nutrients sublimated to flesh.
Just how far, may I ask, are you in on this? Do you
so adore what you made that you want to gobble it back up?
Fleda Brown calls you “The uncontrollable,
wild heartless heart that loves us,” that gives the quail
its next life in the flesh of the hawk that eats it.
So I understand the food chain isn’t a hierarchy of links,
but a multi-species ribbon, round and continuous,
ends joined in a snaking Möbius. Or maybe an Ourobouros:
one of those serpents consuming its own tail.
Here’s the thing: I still shiver when I notice the wind
wolfing down clouds shaped like pull-apart biscuits.
**With a line from Fleda Brown’s “Learning the Crawl”
Jennifer Bullis earned a Ph.D. in English at UC Davis and taught community-college writing and literature in Bellingham, Washington, for 14 years. Her poems appear in Iron Horse Literary Review, Natural Bridge, Illuminations, and Cascadia Review. Her first collection, Impossible Lessons, was published by MoonPath Press in 2013. In 2014, her manuscript “Amanda Bubble Is Nearly on Fire” was a finalist for the Floating Bridge Press Chapbook Award