THE PLUCKED CHICKEN

When a father kills the chicken
And marks
A cross of blood on the temple
Of the birthday celebrant
He is the man who claims life is
A feather plucked in celebration
The chicken bloodgushing forth
Is himself all his cursed silent
Existencesinside the coffin inside
The pantheon inside the cemetery
Where the dead offer flowers for the dead
Where the anonymous are unravelling the
Anonymous