I shot a bird
Everyone should try some killing.
The barrel's smooth air, frost singes my ear.
The garden a trigger hush filled
with the pump of a boy's pistol.
The stunted mushroom of a pellet
fits like a key in a fat lock
Excitement like a finger jammed
in the sumptious heart, throbs strong
as the neck of a swan. I tilt
towards the squeeze of acceptance,
the hammer of recoil, the heavy swell
of a burst rib and then the crown of a bird
turned sideways like a drunk railing,
Why the fuck did you wake me up?
A second shot to the twisting head.
A speck of blood in the tiny eye
and the finger in my heart hangs
like a flap of skin.
© 2009 Richard M.
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