16 January 2012

'the handsome man' by heather christle


Walking through the forest I found you
strapped to a tree and half-fainting.
My god you were beautiful,
your sword sticking out like a sword.
Attempting to revive you, I strutted
around the tree seven times, in my
matchless squirrel coat. You seemed
distracted, though, by the lepers’
parade as they lumbered by, singing
Oh woe is me, my feet are cold,
I cannot find my barrel

I took off my coat and disguised
myself as a rooster with a cruel eye
and taxable plumage. There you are, Manfred!
you said, as your bonds turned to vapor.
You tucked me under your arm
and set out to slay something, while I struggled
to take off your pants with my beak.

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