by Jonathan Fletcher<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Proboscis long as lance,
\nyou pierce brown as layered
\nas land, extract
\nwhat you need for your eggs,
\neach batched
\nlike ingots of white gold<\/p>\n
Drink deeply, savor it.
\nTell me how conquistador tastes.
\nPlease drain it all. Tell me
\nwhen you\u2019ve enough of me.<\/p>\n
The small sting,
\nI now feel. Hands to fists,
\nPeruvian to red.
\nWith one swat, I could end the sup.<\/p>\n
But no! Enough blood.
\nToo much already shed.
\nMake new life from mine.<\/p>\n
Hatch<\/p>\n
Hatch<\/p>\n
fly<\/p>\n
fly<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Jonathan Fletcher holds a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing from Columbia University School of the Arts. A Pushcart Prize nominee, he won Northwestern University Press\u2019s Drinking Gourd Chapbook Poetry Prize contest in 2023, for which he will have his debut chapbook, This is My Body<\/em>, published in 2025. Currently, he serves as a Zoeglossia Fellow and lives in San Antonio, Texas.<\/p>\n
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