It takes a trunk full of chickens
to top the tank, otherwise —
a fair rate of exchange. Two birds
a gallon. Fifty sacks of feed,
forty spools of wire,
wood for the coop, nails —
one box of five hundred: 16D.
And straw, always straw.

Sometimes I hear a fox —
late at night, siphoning.
I count the loss in grubs,
run on fumes to the pump,
and —
stuff pillows with down,
red or otherwise.

Image: Erik Mclean on Unsplash

2 Thoughts

  1. I had to refresh my soul in the raw immediacy and quirky intrigue of your work again Devon. Superb example here! Hope you’re doing ok . Over here we’re producing a hologram of normality.


    1. “Hologram of normality”! That’s it exactly. I had a lot of fun with with piece, enumerating on that scrap of green we pull from our pockets, that is, the apparatus that supports it.


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