Sunday, April 26, 2009

How Very Odd

I didn't miss a day! This is yesterday's poem, I just didn't have access to a computer last night.

How Very Odd

The chick chirps out its protest
against being hoisted,
held upside down
and having its butt wiped
indignantly.
Flapping, flaying, it struggles to free itself.
If it had its way
it's excrement would become increment
and it would die
indignantly.
How very odd it is
to fight the hand that heals
to hold the toxins in
to insist on a false dignity
to the point of death.
How very odd I am.

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