Published in The Missouri Review
Because his neighbor was a witch
Lucas agreed to paint her house
For birdseed. After the second coat
He put a sunflower kernel
Under on his tongue, washed it down
With a boilermaker or three
And waited for the thrills to kick-in.
Will I sing like a skylark?
Will I soar like an albatross?
Like the nightingale, will I inspire
Tuberculars to scribble odes?
After more beer, Lucas fell asleep
And dreamed he was a goose feather
In a pillow, between a pea
And a princess. Nevermore,
He squawked to the dawn sun, nevermore.