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Finger Fowl

Little sparrows show off their agility,

dancing up and down violin necks.

Pecking staccato notes out of the air.

Making tea and dropping ceramics

behaving clumsily and babbling nonsense

even after they've been told

sit down and be quiet.

 

Imitation ducks sit squat,

quiet, muddy, decoying

singing water stains,

spitting curses from their bills.

Pulling bed sheets up to their chins,

nesting between the covers.

Very anonymous in their colours,

not a deviation among them.

 

Cold wax and dry glue

flake off creases and folds.

These lovely imitations,

cuckoo plaster cast knuckles

snowflaking to the ground,

useless with fine motor skills.

Peeling off like dead leaves,

parasitic nest components.

 

All my fingernails are different lengths,

evolving finches’ beaks

on isolated islands

With scratches on the vinyl of my thumb,

sand beneath my cuticles,

scrapbooks between my fingerprints.

Piano keys team up in groups of two,

sharing sharps and flats.

 

 

Filed and polished,

pink budgies dispose of portfolios apathetically,

slamming filing cabinets shut.

Cuttle bones rattling,

mirrors cracking.

Irritable thighs complaining,

they hunker with bad posture,

frowning on their perch.

Squat salient warbles

clamoring sharply down corridors

over whistling loudspeakers.

 

Poster orioles elbow aside crowds,

bright bones flashing

neon signs

keratin streaked or spotted

for biological attention.

Weaponry painted exciting colours,

friendly hues and enthusiastic tints.

Lies dressed in curiosity,

attracting intrigue.

 

My heron neck in the air

searches for information,

explanation, observation.

Greedy for projections,

living in the tree tops,

reflected in shop windows,

my skinny anisodactyl talons

for walking on mud,

wading through marsh,

boggy water.

 

My hands are geese

jabbering back and forth

across my chest.

its very distracting

to have these conversations

going on between palms,

arguing the best way to fold paper cranes,

whether chocolate pudding

should be stirred clockwise or counter.

 

Take a gander at the world you don't touch because your fingers are too flightly

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Written by
the-monster-in-the-mirror
Published
May 15, 2013
Lines·Words
71·311
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