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.