by Marc Darnell
I expected a little puppy
or a fresh kitten, but… no.
My therapist arrived at my
door, with a farmer. She’s
a good girl, and she don’t
lay eggs no mo. He held
it like a baby. She’ll follow
you like a duckling. I said
nothing. What can you say?
When they left I researched
what she eats. Papa Google
said they eat anything. I put
Cheerios in my dead dog’s
dish. She pecked away. How
can this relieve my anxiety,
lift my depression? In the
morning she perched on my
bedpost, then hopped onto
my crotch. Time to get up.
I gave her a vanilla wafer,
then cornflakes. She made
me think of my early days,
the farm in Lynch—Boyd
county Nebraska—cattle my
dad drew pictures of to keep
track of them, record their
markings. We were too poor
for a camera. We five kids
played with sticks and corn
cobs, and chickens running
everywhere. I named this
chicken Oscar Fiddlepoop,
like the family rooster. Oscar
followed me out to the street
to check the mail; then we
walked the neighborhood, no
leash needed. I had neglected
to take my morning Lexapro,
but I didn’t care. A Karen
asked if I had permission to
have that chicken. I said, what
chicken? I think Oscar was
eating gravel. I didn’t stop
her. Maybe it’s just something
they do. Every day Oscar
came to my bedpost, waiting
for breakfast, and we concluded
each night eating popcorn and
watching a horror movie. She
liked The Birds and Jurassic
Park. I tried playing Hide and
Seek but she just ran in circles
around the coffee table. One
morning she wasn’t on my bed-
post: I arose to find her head
deep in the dish of Special K.
She was dead. I buried her in
the backyard, started taking all
my pills again, booked a needed
appointment. Maybe it was the
vanilla wafers, or nightmares of
her former henhouse servitude—
(lay or die!). I had become her
therapist and silent confidant.
Marc Darnell is a custodian and online tutor in Papillion, Nebraska. His latest books are Forecast: Increasing Visibility (Kelsay Books 2024) and The Mining Muse (Impspired Books 2024). He has 3 times received an Academy of American Poets award.