Is it because I am like a man?
Firm and stand my ground
Refuse to roll over and take it lying down
But it can’t be, can it?
Self indulgent and full of shit.
Shaven, tiny tears circa 1982.
A chicken who laid 3 eggs, 1 broken and 2 cracked.
No longer reminiscent of the picture once exhibited,
A speculum entering another kind of infinity.
The proximity of which is not mine to reckon with.
The mother hen plucked and raised on images of glistening phalluses,
wet oversized voids,
spit roast and basted
Looming over a wooden platform,
a performance that never stopped,
not sure when it even began.
I probably should have been a man.
Had I been,
would you have still taken us for a ride?
squeezing out every bit of joy and pride
and screwing us over and over in the ass
because of my own lively past,
when all i did (and should never have done)
about the hatchling difficulties of egg number 2.