THE FROGMORE POETRY PRIZE 2012

Dorothy Fryd

THE JOY OF CHICKENS

the chicken is trying to think in plural
he is trying
to ask the croupier

for less emotion

the croupier shakes his mandible
no can do chicken
try to remember

where you spent last night

sitting in the echo of Helene Weigel’s
silent scream
theories swimming like black umbrellas

that’s where, chicken

the chicken won’t hold still
he wants
to put his legs inside your mouth

and push against your membranes

he wants to look away, he wants
to push twigs
down your throat

and watch you peck your way out

he wants to be in films like Flatliners
he wants to cry out
I AM YOUR SISTER

he craves the Pen, he needs the 80’s rave scene

he wants sugar cane
outside his back door

he wants to speak at a symposium on diaspora
no one is listening as he types up

a document for the home office:
i don’t need a passport, he says
i am a chicken,
no sir, you need to push back
your chicken cuticles
for the photo booth,
no sir, we need to clip your wings.
No sir, you can’t fly away.


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