Poetry By Jessica Mehta

        ​kerry o'connor CC




Genetically Isolated Since the Ice Age

I starved myself down the wrong way
not with a wailing stomach and day-long naps
but with the kind of hunger you reserve for pure hatred
(or fear)
I was an animal
gutting turkeys and chewing through the cow’s gristle
pushing through bags of raw vegetables and passing
on all the offers of sweet whiskey, the good bread puddings
and perfect gin martinis with perfect slices of ice
that had kept me warm and fat
bundled in thick layers of subcutaneous blubber
for all those lonely years
I hadn’t sprung up like a flower
and I didn’t wither like one either
Not me, for me
it was the failing predator’s way
a flailing Kodiak bear dragging a rusted
trap in my wake so you can all see where I’ve been
until the starvation caught me
tackled me to the earth and I breathed in the musk
of where we’re all going
the embrace turning more tender
as the weight sloughed off until all that’s left
is a solid block of sharp bones wrapped tight
in a fancy pantsuit of new muscle so young
and so shiny
and so utterly unlike who I am
or who I thought I was
I don’t know how to wear it right
and it’s just so painfully
heartbreakingly obvious
I’m playing dress-up in a closet I don’t belong​



Jessica Mehta is a multi-award-winning poet and author of the just-released "Selected Poems: 2000 - 2020," the winner of the Birdy Prize from Meadowlark Books. As a citizen of the Cherokee Nation, space, place, and ancestry in post-colonial "America" informs much of Mehta's work. You can learn more at www.thischerokeerose.com.