Wing in the Freezer

To understand desire be Angerona
in Rome, one finger over your mouth.
 
Her statue was found in a shrine
for the Goddess of Pleasure. By the way,
 
there’s a wing in my freezer. It’s April
and I’m in Ohio taking photos of snowdrops.
 
Snowdrops are early spring flowers,
small balloons of white hanging from leaves.
 
In my dream, I was Voluptas.
Good morning pleasure,
 
or—good morning, Pleasure. Angerona
lifted her finger from her lips
 
and told me a secret. I promised
to keep it, but I’ll share this:
 
when desire and pleasure meet,
stars connect like the street lights I pass
 
when I drive to assist in the after-death migration
of birds: grass to freezer to natural history museum.
 
I forgot to tell you it’s a blue-winged teal
wing pinned to cardboard,
 
and it’s next to a flicker and finch
found dead in the grass by the road.
 
A hunter friend killed the teal in season, ate it,
then gave me the wing. I’m vegan,
 
but he knew I had a freezer of berries
and dead birds. The birds are for science.
 
The berries are for me. I don’t feed the dead,
but last night I spoke with them. 

Photo Credit: “Wounded Amazon of the Sosikles from the Louvre Museum” by Jastrow is licensed under CC BY 2.5 via Wikimedia Commons.

About the author

Nicole Robinson's recent poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Grist, The Fourth River, Great River Review, and elsewhere. She is the recipient of an Individual Excellence Award in poetry from the Ohio Arts Council and is the Narrative Medicine Coordinator at Akron Children's Hospital.

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