The Footlight Players Prize

Michael H. Lythgoe


Rooster Tales (3)

Barn yard boss pecked
Out her eyes. Bitch
Pissed him off.
Farmer’s wife watches
Killer’s machismo moves
Admires the cockerel's
Beauty—the tail
Feathers wind-rifled
When Rooster is still.
But he is a brutal
Rooster-ruler humping,
Keeping hens in line.
Naturally mean pecker—
The farmer said so;
But the farmer’s wife
Wants to frame the cock:
A photo for her wall.
Just a matter of time
Before I have to kill
That awful fucking rooster.
Sure enough—wife goes out
To feed. The fowl
Attacks her sideways,
Spurs like shivs—foul play:
Stab wounds, stitches &
Farmer grabs his magnum—
Puts a bullet through songs
The wife loved to hear.
Misogyny murdered.
Dumped dead plumage
In a landfill. What a waste.
No strutting songs at dawn.
No kitchen cock for luck.