Bethany Jarmul

I am a bird who shall be trapped in a net, locked in a cage, whose wings shall be clipped, eyes gouged, and plumage plucked feather-by-feather until I am left naked and trembling, bruised and battered. Or else I am a bird who shall be shot from the sky or scratched to a slow death by an orange alley cat or who shall choke on a pebble mistaken for a seed, or who shall ram head-first into a freshly cleaned window, or plowed into eternity by a semi, or sucked into and obliterated by a roaring jet engine. I am a bird who shall be eaten by the cheetah at the zoo or Wile E. Coyote or a ravenous pit viper. I am a bird at the veterinarian’s office, test results pending.