by Daniel Z. McKenzie
Sinking
In the family couch
I’m sheltered in a humble haven,
Fleeting respite from the clanging
Of cramping mortal subcreation.
Within the mellow country clamor
A final tense, then exhalation,
My soul can bathe
In liberation.
Creak!
My sister rolls the sliding door
And beams a prodding grin.
There nestled ‘neath her nodding chin:
A leghorn-marans
With silk feathers for hands
And a dishonest gleam in her eye.
Abruptly I find myself awakened
From my rumination
By this domestic
Aberration.
Marshmallow,
She calls the bird.
Sweet as sugar to some,
Soft as powder therefrom,
To me she looks up and stares salt.
Nothing under the sun glares judgment
Like an uneasy chicken.
Unwelcome interloper, She cynically
Bawwwwwwwwwk
Baaaaaaaawwks…
The hen complains
With the creaking spite
Of a murderous cassowary,
Somehow both doltish and austere.
It seems even the most tranquil sanctuary
Cannot avert the judgmental leer
Of unwavering ink-dark pupils.
Suddenly I sigh
As I meet that avian eye.
Once my pride has been vacated
Some simple problems are placated,
With last Tuesday’s
Scrap noodles.
Daniel Z. McKenzie was raised in Peru alongside endearing yet guileful chickens. Nowadays, when he is not out climbing a mountain or frying eggs over a campfire in the American outdoors, Daniel can be found studying long-dead languages while enjoying his expansive tea collection.