you preening thundering geese

I track after you

mindful of sidestepping your rubbery green turds

as you carpet-bomb the great park lawn

you peck and hiss

territorial as warlords

and in defense of egregious nonsense

upheld by your canon of custom

baked goose on a spit

in some anti-academic club

held in a socialist restaurant

goodness...just like in the old days....

nature will never be denied

you spit as we approach your young

and puff up in challenge as we back away

or we come back later after dark

your heads nestled under your wings

and slaughter you and your goslings

or God knows even we supplant you with the blatts

of our trumpeting bills a new order of fowl

nature will never be denied

our own complacency in the order of things

guarantees it...

Content (c) 2008-2012 Philip Milito.