Volume 16:1, Winter 2015
Nobody ever confused the word “chicken” with an era.
Nobody invented a courtly form to discuss poultry.
Nobody brought a happy chicken into the Brill building;
they were always first subjected to a period of fire.
A young lady might experiment with chickens, buy a clutch,
watch them hatch, drive them to a farm when the poop
outweighs the cute. But odds are she won’t go broody.
Odds are she’ll eat their flesh with more sauce than sentiment.
Ring up the pop star makers. Phone porn mongers and TV
executives. Text Gosling. Text Scarlett. Someone alert Helen
Steiner Rice. We sail tomorrowfirst for England, then
Italy and Franceto conquer, to set up court, to begin breeding.
Red handkerchiefs shall signify a willingness to barbecue.
All will praise the chickens of Nevada’s Chicken Ranch.
Danny Collier earned an MFA in Creative Writing from George Mason University. He created the ongoing web project, An Abbreviated Family Dictionary. His writing has appeared in Everyday Genius, Barrelhouse, Kill Author, and The Northville Review.