"Dear Chicken" by Gabriel Gudding

winter 2005 vol. 57 no. 1

 

Dear Chicken,

I'm sorry the farmboy punts you. Our housecat is a racist and considers you a brand of Arabian sparrow. Most butterflies are just hinged shabby paper. I don't get your feet: you are such this dressed up lizard. What if I were to plug the tail of a cow into its rectum? Would its hooves frizzle and short-circuit? Is the pumpkin a Catholic or a Lutheran? The evangelist exploded on my mother. There was missionary-slurry all over her.

Yesterday I inserted a frozen caterpillar into my urethra. It thawed and crawled out. I am punching the bunny in the head. I am not going to put the bunny in my mouth. Won't fit. Even a small bunny won't fit in my mouth. You are my chicken. I will send you some nail polish, you can paint your beak with it. That way you can be a pretty chicken.

Sincerely,

Gabriel Gudding


Gabriel Gudding is the author of
A Defense of Poetry (Pitt, 2002) and rhode island notebook (currently under consideration at a press near you). An assistant professor of English at Illinois State University, he is a trained mediator and practices Vipassana in the tradition of Sayagyi U Ba Khon.

cquarter@unc.edu
 © 2003 The Carolina Quarterly