Lucy Alexander #12 Chooks

The medium flight

of the feathered bumble

egg machine

companion

in the light of

weed crop

you marched

the garden’s mulch,

fermenting

grub and grain

and green leaf into

squash dropping

the cloaca of your heart

a one way tunnel

into food to make fox fur

for a roadside verge

which will sprout

those luminous green

weeds you peck and peck

nothing comes to nothing

feathers are friends to the wind

and clucking dribbles

down the garden

announcing nest trouble

the thought of food

a thing to flap for.