Allison Martin - Rooster

Spring '09 TOC

that night amidst the backyard mange,
the rooster curdling his signature untimely crow,
you bent your head down
until it reached mine
and all I remember seeing was
black branches against blue sky
mingled with swipes of your hair on my face.

as is customary, we smoked
cigarettes & chatted until the hours
when night becomes inverted,
like an airplane pilot’s vertigo.
is the orange & pink receding
or emerging? it was tough to tell
over the alcohol glow & our laughter.

we grew so tired, the front stoop
became a nest for our heads
until finally discomfort, not
dissatisfaction, got the best of us.
one of us mentioned killing
the rooster & in my current state
of recklessness & adventure,
I grabbed your hand, pulling you
into the overgrowth & vowing to
make that rooster think twice
about confusing 4 AM with 7 AM.

I told you the story about how one of the
chickens escaped into our yard &
we subdued it with rakes, but
ultimately I had to toss it back
over the fence, like an unwanted
morsel at a surfeit potluck.
you laughed, didn’t say much of anything.
I walked you to your car, and as
you drove away–a light morning
fog beginning to form–I considered the rooster
somewhat of a confidant for the first time.

:: TOC ::

Not Enough Night
Not Enough Night
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