Notes About The Poem
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EASTER CHICKS, 1962
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We carried them home in shoeboxes
poked with air holes,
our fingers trembling
against pastel fluff~
yellow as buttercups,
blue like faded denim,
pink like bubblegum
stuck under our beds.
They cheeped in chorus,
a sound so small
it could drown in a rain puddle.
We named them
after cartoon characters,
after dead grandmothers,
after whatever sweetness
we could scrape from our imaginations.
By Monday, the dye ran in their water dish,
streaking their feathers into something
less magical, more real.
We didn’t know
they’d outgrow the colors,
that their feet would twist
from walking on newspaper,
that no one’s mother
would let them stay.
The grocery store manager
just shrugged,
his apron smeared
with something unnamable.
Take ‘em, he said.
They’re free.
you may read the accompanying memoir vignette at: poetrysoup.com/short_stories/peep_peep_baby_chicks_13614
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