Milica Mijatović

I eat moths for breakfast before singing in church every Sunday

I open my mouth, 
and a moth flies out
while Lord has mercy;
Sunday breakfasts leave me empty
by noon as my food dances by the ceiling,
little wings flapping, mouthless moths squealing.
Damp from my stomach acid, the almost butterflies
grow tired of waiting for the final amen—far too wise
to stick around for the bells. I watch them climb higher
than my reach. I fall off pitch, as everybody eyes the choir.

Milica Mijatović is a Serb poet and translator. Born in Brčko, Bosnia and Hercegovina, she relocated to the United States where she earned a BA in creative writing and English literature from Capital University. She received her MFA in creative writing from Boston University and is a recipient of a Robert Pinsky Global Fellowship in Poetry. Her poetry appears or is forthcoming in Rattle, Plume, The Louisville Review, Poet Lore, Collateral, Santa Clara Review, Barely South Review, and elsewhere. Her poems have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and she serves as Assistant Poetry Editor for Consequence.