by Ryan Scariano
I have conceived all the laws that describe
the universe. When I was a naked eye.
When I was a boy. Where I was in a few hundred
years. Oh my, I saw that land of chicken bones,
before new trees hung heavy with tender juicy
nuggets. Now there are more nuggets in a single
supermarket than the entirety of beetles that will
ever exist. When I was an egg, mom would stay
seated at the table after a chicken dinner and
pick clean the bones for the cats. The back door
was open, the flies were getting in.
Ryan Scariano‘s most recent poetry collection is Flicker Noise, a collaborative chapbook with the poet Henrietta Goodman (Bottlecap Press, 2024). He serves as an assistant poetry editor for Narrative Magazine and lives in La Grande, Oregon. www.ryanscariano.com