They tell me I will fly one day, 

that I have to be patient 

and that my time will come. 

I try to tell myself  they’re right and

eat my weight in whatever

they give me each day

systematically and in spirals,

one bite at a time, endlessly. 

It doesn’t always sit right, 

and I get tired of the taste of milkweed, but

they tell me I will fly one day

if  only I keep eating.