poultry poetry

she asked me to write poetry about poultry, she said it with a smile, unsure if the words came out right

i was lost in her voice, dancing across my heartstrings

but how can i say no to her

i wanted to call foul on the fowl subject matter, pluck the prompt apart

she assured me in certainty that the chicken was a noble creature but i was sure her assurance was certainly unsure

had she ever seen one dance with it’s head next to the stump, the cleaver stained with blood

or been attacked by geese at the edge of pond, she would be so fond if she only had handful of feed to fend the feathered bastards off

but it is her, after searching so long, like a chicken pecking at gravel in hopes for a seed, i couldn’t say no


the chicken

poultry poetry
is for the cultured only
i am not cultured
but i have been known
to bake their breasts
with a drizzle of olive oil
and fresh herbs
which is a poetry
of it’s own

13 thoughts on “poultry poetry

      1. mmmmm – I’m actually a good cook. I like cooking, especially for other people. And poultry is a specialty of mine. Along with Indian food and fish (because: Alaskan woman).

        Liked by 1 person

      2. As a matter of fact, I went about six months on that exact same diet, i shit you not. Cliff Bars for the win!! Granted; I had a pro-deal with them, sooo… CHEAP cliff bars for the win!!

        Liked by 1 person

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