Pity the bird those incisions that force it
open so completely. Throat, belly, and vent,
viscera factory-wrapped in waxy paper,
unpacked in homes to flavor dressing,
or gravy. Once the bird is eaten, we dig
out the fused collarbone and let it dry
on a window sill. Its never felt sunlight
through the breast, and light is never found
living near the heart’s red glaze. Yet, we
beg to grasp the prongs of the wishbone,
yearn for what we want in the luxury
of pulling apart what we cannot eat.
Ösel Jessica Plante's poetry, and flash fiction, has appeared or is forthcoming in the Best Small Fictions 2016 anthology, Crab Orchard Review, the minnesota review, Mid-American Review, Mississippi Review, New Ohio Review, Rattle, Salamander, SmokeLong Quarterly and others. She was a finalist for the 2016 Mississippi Review Prize in poetry and third place winner of the 2016 New South Journal poetry contest. She lives in Tallahassee, Florida where she's pursuing a PhD in Poetry.