That god-damned butt bird is back
after a winter sunning
somewhere in southern climes
building his nest in the gutter
outside my office window
cheep, cheep, cheepering
all the live-long day.
Screaming his fitness
to passing lady birds
like that drunken fraternity clod
who shouted Hey
Mei-Ling, the Chinese slut!
As I hurried by
to a 10 a.m. physics exam.
His nest will again
stop the gutter's flow
and icicles – no, eve-hanging glaciers --
will block my writer's view
a farewell gift
after he's flown
his feathered ass south.
I fantasize
his black-topped head
bloodied and crushed
dirty-yellow beak
gaping and silenced.
Would I feel guilty
not a bit
not when all I can write about today
is his cheep, cheep, cheepering.
May Kuroiwa
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
The Painting
ReplyDeleteShe loved that painting of yellow daisies
the paint heavy and tactile, the image bold.
I didn’t.
I tried to put it into an inconspicuous space
She wanted it where she could see it and touch it.
Now that she is departed
it would be logical to get rid of it.
Instead, in the new apartment
she never got to enjoy
it was the first I hung
where it dominates the room.
Perfect.
Had to post this. It's a re-write exercise for my poetry class, we're supposed to use concrete imagery.
ReplyDeleteLaughed so hard while writing this, my husband called upstairs to ask if I was alright.
The assignment, rewrite: He looked so angry.
In his face fought
a pair of flustered owls
fluttering cheeks sought
to slap his flapping jowls.
May Kuroiwa
green mower masticating
ReplyDeletegreener grass
into rows of verdant silk
vibration vibrato
addictive exhaust
hypnotic growl...
metal chews rock
screams
Ka-CHUNG!
Maggie Creshkoff