Tuesday, April 25, 2017

CHICKEN

On a spring day so
pleasant, it's downright
alarming,

my weird, distracted
thoughts fly away, and I'll pray
to god—please turn me

into a bird, make me
a slender and golden American
eagle;

not so I can fly far,
but so I can learn how
to stay here

on the lawn—milling around
when it's not
my default, quiet,

calm,
disarmed completely,
and gradually disappearing

into the innocuous,
egg-yellow
background.

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