Chickens (3/11/14)

“I love you” I say to the chicken. “Cluck, cluck” she replies.

She loves me because I feed her

but she’s ready to attack in a second, flat

if I’m accidentally positioned between her and her chicks.

The rooster tolerates me

because I provide him food.

That, and I think that on some level

he understands that it is socially acceptable

for me to kill him.

I’m sure that Mama hen knows it as well

but she would die

before she let anyone fuck with her babies.

I often wonder what they’re all thinking

and what they think of me.

Am I some sort of god to them

because I provide food

or an idiot they laugh at

as they devour the free chicken scratch?

The garden also provides them with food

as does the compost pile.

Do they think I’m a walking garden

or compost pile?

I don’t think they judge me,

but I do wish I understood

what they’re always clucking about.

My friends, the chickens.

About soitgoes1984

I was born and raised on land stolen from the Pocumtuc. I now live on a small island in the middle of the Pacific ocean, on land that was stolen more recently, from the Hawaiians. I am addict, struggling to kick the habit of fossil fuel. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
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