One beetle. My first. Shiny and black. It shimmied down my windpipe, tiny legs like a staccato earthquake. My insides clenched. Growled. Tremored, creating tiny water rings through my digestive fluids. One splash. That’s all it took to catch the lowest of the beetle’s myriad of legs. Suddenly it froze. Paused for a moment. Aware of its own doom? Whatever the case, I tasted awakening.
One moth. It was a full moon, and she was attracted to its reflection diffused through my skin. She landed on the basin of my lips, her spiral tongue lapping nectar. Her wings quivered as though to fly away. For a second, I considered letting her. Almost. With a brush of wind, she slipped inside. In her final moments, she felt like velvet, and I learned the beautiful ones tasted divine.
Two bees. Both male. Bumbling about my mouth in search of the sugar I painted across my teeth. Their snare was quick, listless, and disappointing. Honey swirled through my insides. It was sticky, and their stingers caught in my throat.
One cicada. I was eager, young, and impatient for a feast so large. She shed her carapace inside my stomach and abandoned me with her decay. Laughing, she found freedom, and I consumed what was left of her. Like the moth, she was beautiful, and I would take what I could get.
A horde of gnats. After a period of scarcity. They shoved into my windpipe like a mouthful of dust, and their thin skin disintegrated before I could taste them. I learned that there could be fullness without satisfaction. I was left hungry.
One hornet. Mammoth and armed to the teeth. Her mandibles rent my waxy flesh. Her stinger gored me through. Reminding me that I was a flower. She was a worthy opponent, and I almost let her spill my insides on the forest floor. But my stomach clenched with that familiar ache, so I fought instead. In the end, she was my favorite meal.
A single, measly ant. My taste buds shriveled momentarily. Until a spider crawled down my throat, rich as the forest floor, with a red hour glass painted on his back. He pursued the ant, a hunter lost to the chase. One predator to another, his confidence annoyed me. I doused him in my stomach lining until all eight legs curled inward. He tasted bitter. Like surprise and venom.
Another moth. Pale wings etched with scars. She stayed far away from my lips and teeth, instead landing atop the bloom protruding from my crown. I watched her, curious. What was she doing? She rubbed against me—fuzzy legs, antennae, proboscis. Though I craved her intensely, the sensation was pleasant. Ultimately, she flew away. Days later, I understood when my body blossomed with seed pods.
One bat. Impossible. He was aged and fell asleep in my gullet. It took me weeks to consume him. Weeks during which he nourished the bundle above my head. It grew, full to bursting. For the first time, I was grateful to one of my meals. When all that remained were shards of bone, a strong wind came. My spores dispersed. My daughters filled the air and settled into the soil. I swore the earth trembled, preparing.
Swelling with pride, my stomach clenched—hungry.
