Lesson Of The Village Egg Thief

you have to make friends
with the dogs
in daytime and at night
come to them with the scent
of your own hair on your hands
the scent of a burnt out match

they would like to be fed, but how
the only things to eat
are bitter herbs and backhand
blows from men
that drink all the money
their knuckles are unspendable coins

I’ve known this hour
for four years I’ve been a fox
a weasel, chicken shit on my belly
my fingers are my most
educated part can caress
a hen’s ass without tickling

clucks and whimpers
ride the night air
I used to be afraid of skeleton hands
talons on the naked ball of my shoulder
a bullet breaking my jaw
now I’m afraid of hungry eyes

I told my mother to quit
having babies but she can’t
give up having men, being wanted
by someone not snuffling
at her coarse nipples
even if they cut and burn her

it’s to the point
I don’t leave my prints in mud
light body tied to light feet
I carry eight ova
juggling past roots and sharp stones
my feet no longer bleed or feel anything

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GlenDodge

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a poet from Seattle Washington USA. His poetry has appeared in print in publications such as Bellowing Ark, Point Nopoint, and most recently in Contraposition magazine. When not writing poetry he is a Human Resources professional, a repentant glutton, and a novelist specializing in the weird-fiction genre.
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Nadeem Qazilbash
Member

Darkness so well thought and written. Sad.

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