Wednesday, April 6, 2022

April 6.

400 meat chickens

lost in the storm
ever since I fainted on the floor
of the veterinarian’s office
I can’t drive or sing
because fat bodied moths
live in my throat I broke my arm
heard the snap she said
you’re fine this morning
my tooth cracked I’ve never
been good at asking for help
I’m bored of my own trauma
I’ve never been good
at asking for help but I could
write a treatise on the joy
of cowardice how precise
it feels to just walk away from school
or family or husband or job
that step outside mid day
when it’s quiet as rapture
such wild joy as women hang
laundry on the lines and chickens
go flapping into the west
all those livers
all that meat


4 Comments:

Blogger Rebecca said...

your are writing a treatise on joy, all these years

April 6, 2022 at 7:08 PM  
Blogger Ramona Quimby said...

my god, the joy of walking away! I dream of walking out of my work-life daily, how wonderful and irresponsible it will be the day I muster up the courage to be a coward and just. walk. out.

April 6, 2022 at 8:29 PM  
Blogger Ms. Moon said...

How I love this one. Simple. Straight to the heart of it all.

April 7, 2022 at 6:28 AM  
Blogger Pixie said...

The joy of walking away, I think of this often. I'm glad I'm not the only one.

April 7, 2022 at 8:18 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home