The World

By Jessica Metha

I’ve come home

to me, stripped of hide

and curled in common

Colubridae. Watch on,

you Evangelists, disparate

tetramorph—witness:

my kingdom borne of savage

beasts. Bred by me

of serpent’s tail, double

pricked and magic

made—modest

not by chance

but because you, you

cannot start to fathom

the power guarded in my

gathers. I am both, all

creatures, two and more

prudent spirits, the fifth

and final creation come

complete. Fixed house

and enemy alike osculate

in my arches, turn with no

wicks trimmed tight

to smoke. Man imagines

himself avian, falcon heavy,

paper wings priced low

as a rock.[1] They spread,

affixed with muscles not meant

for where he rockets to go—

different planets, to the moon—never

knowing birds, they do not do

in the brumal vacuums

of the universe. My dearMoon,

I AM[2]

the volant one, cockatrice uncaged.

[1] Elon Musk’s SmallSat Rideshare Program touts “dedicated rideshare missions as low as $1m.”

[2] “dearMoon project” is a SpaceX “lunar tourism project” (as was “Falcon Heavy”).

Back to Main Page

Jessica Mehta, PhD is a Native (Aniyunwiya / Cherokee Nation) American award-winning poet and artist currently undertaking her Fulbright Nehru Senior Scholar post in Bengaluru, India. For her website.