They Aren't Chickens - for We Write Poems

They Aren't Chickens

Is coastal shame worse
or embryonic in its
jagged roots borrowed
and unseen even
though the fighter calls pine songs
of the sap foot turtle?

The hatching of snakes
is an emerald color,
a snapshot record
I would hope to keep.

Munching on almonds
and marshmallows, books
unread and half lame,
toothpicks torn apart, slivered,
I'm leaf and earlobes
concerning fatness
hoping ripples at sea's edge
will keep lemon rind.

The microscope hums
a homing tune, dissecting
my cotton stockings
while I'm unwrapping
the gassy eggs left
by the grunts of beady eyed
sharp beaked sad old birds.

We did think they were chickens.
I feel foolish saying so.

‎April ‎7, ‎2014 11:50 PM

Written for We Write Poems, Wordle 13

The last dodo was sighted before 1700 and the dodo was doubtless extinct by 1715. The bird lived on the island of Mauritius, an island found east of Madagascar. Flightless and fearless of man, nonetheless it is unclear exactly what happened. The sailors who landed there were not in the habit of recording everything. However, it seems they may not have been that good to eat. Apparently there were many non-native animals introduced who may have competed directly with the dodo for their food supply and other things may have happened too.

Each of the following words of Wordle 13 can be found in my poem.