Chicken Literal

I am a chicken
With its head cut off.
Watch me bleed.
Don’t bother throwing seeds
Down my neck.
I’m beyond eating.
Now I’m all about
Feet and fleeing.
Flopping useless wings,
Staining feathers
Really nothing more
Than a broken promise
From my broken
Shelled beginning.
Laughing children
Chase me around the yard
Until I fall in the weeds.
I watch them
With my beady eyes
From the sticky block.
The hatchet sun, raised,
For years, aiming.
Take it from me:
You won’t see it drop.


4 Responses to “Chicken Literal”

  1. Fey says:

    A headless chicken can live for years without its head, ya know.

  2. eduardo says:

    Oy vey! Feeling a wee bit nihilistic, eh?

    And that pesky hatchet sun: Never send to know for whom that sun sets; it sets for thee.

    • wordweed says:

      Naw, not so nihilistic, really. My students and I were playing with taking cliches and making them literal. I suppose the end-of-the-semester busyness combined with many changes happening in my life all at once, most of them completely unforeseen, colored my telling of the chicken’s perspective. ; )

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