by Amanda Tumminaro —
Nothing is a taxidermy.
Life is constantly relaxing its muscles,
and the corner is always a river
with people leaving their prints like receipts.
Bread is purchased and jelly is bagged,
and cigarettes are smoked for proof,
how the smoker can blow donut holes.
But we all have constraints.
Our little bad habits that are shackles
that keep us from flying.
So, I will buy my bread and jelly,
and redeem my coupons for evolution,
and hope to get a set of wings
from a stiffened, dead bird.
Amanda Tumminaro lives in the U.S. She is a poet and short story writer and her work has been featured in Thrice Fiction, Jokes Review and Stickman Review, among others. Her first poetry chapbook, The Flying Onion, is available now by The Paragon Press.