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.

last updated Thursday, February 14, 2013 @ 9:54 AM