Incalescence of Backyard Chickens in Fiery Sunsets
The bird feet fall upon the grass like autumn leaves, softy, softly
The red sun disk is degraded into blackness again
Cinnamon and orange-yellow chicken feathers each penciled with amber glow
Golden brown breasts tipped with honey drops
Hard feathered luster of yellow wheat or mahogany softness of a plain bird
Pink like cooked salmon
Clucking like half-forgotten childhood reveries
My hens, must you fall silent like Philomela?
What Jacobite feathery heresies am I a warden of?
What red powder have you left me with
As the night envelops this red earth land?
Only Chevalier Rooster in his black tunic
-- A potentate of a new Sun --
Will herald a gentle seraph with his sentinel cry
In my bedroom with many mirrors, many selves
My tongue has been cut off
I have learned to weave myself into everything
Tonight I am sea mist, boneless at last
Copyright © Diana Thoresen | Year Posted 2019