Feathered Days, poem by Mihaela Melnic at Spillwords.com

Feathered Days

Feathered Days

written by: Mihaela Melnic


Turkeys stuffed with nutshells and rum
are strutting like gitanos
in flamenco’s clasp, mirroring themselves
into the knife’s blade.

The geese come along to mourn
in groups of five
like in those days of you into the woods
picking white mushrooms
for black days, or dogwood berries
from trees beaten with a long bat,
the geese, parading the unpaved street,
asking for some of it.

You, piling up wood not yet moistured
by rotting leaves and moss,
poking the fire in the chimney
with a new life inside of you,
your eyes peering through the window
blackened by the night,
in wait.
The merciful geese, are gone for the night.
The turkeys were slashed drunk –
for the sake of succulence.

Now everything is set in place.
Knife. Basket. Wooden Bat. Firewood.
You are everywhere.
I am with you.

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