No, do not go to bed yet.
There is still more left to swallow.
Go, instead, to the river bed.
Dip your head down; Unlatch your jaw–now
Snatch them in your dental net.
Gulp them quickly, quickly
Forget the mental; forget the frigid
water sawing at your rivered paws–
Focus on my forest laws,
your carnivorous throat,
and its deep need
to swallow, swallow water,
Swallow the pike, the salmon
fighting to spawn, Swallow their children.
If your paws fall off, fret not.
For I, Eternal, reflect upon you rescued light.
See that hare, that rapid mammal
pretending to be immobile?
Make it mobile down your throat.
Eat its foot and you’ll grow new ones.
Now, look up at my countenance,
My counting of the Earth and her peoples:
the hareless snow, my Justice–aglow.
Yes, dear fox, you’ve done your duty.
Retire to your den, and Swallow your dreams.
~~
Stella Bockelman is a lesbian fox trying to be an adult trying to be a human. Her only formal poetry instruction was a workshop in undergraduate at The Ohio State University in Spring 2025. She’s been self-studying ever since. Born and raised in Ohio, she currently works as a lab technician in Kentucky.
