Sunday, March 29, 2009

My Little Pony


and I float through the open
door, crash into the river

a mouthful of bright noise
and slaughter

the fisherman have brand new
blue nylon nets and they

throw us back once
they realize we don’t have

pearls tucked in our cheeks
or taped between our toes

we are entirely without jewels,
featherless as a newborn pig

I’ve taught him to canter
in five different languages

but something’s changing
in our headwounds, new
growth, sharp teeth

2 comments:

Lydia Netzer said...

Nothing is more featherless than a newborn pig.

keed said...

wow. blazing