poultry

we're at the lake, sister, mom and i
where everything is green 
and the water keeps you cool

sister's friends had shared her birthday  
and in the dimming light we discussed Irene
who wanted to come but phoned and talked  
about her sad marriage to a minister 
who took drugs, how bad it was 

her first husband was a minister too, 
and this is where the chickens came in, 
when mom asked could i guess what afflicted him?
little boys i said, then poultry, as mom, 
safely to the kitchen now,
could be heard keeping back a laugh, 
the reflex for the poor wife's tears 
put another way, to a glass of water, 
sleep, 
a blessed day



© Copyright 2001 Peter Chapman

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