My sister found a baby bird— Fallen— Far from the nest. I'm teaching it to fly, She said, swinging it from a rope Tied around its delicate neck. My father caught a catfish From the depths of Hells Canyon. He fought that whiskered bitch For the better part of a Scorching afternoon. The meat he culled from its Fingernail-white bones Was slick and pliant; The muscles of one meant for Cold, dampness and dark— Pulled, unwilling, into the sun.
This is a very deftly worded, deftly turned poem, DJ. Nice work!
Thank you, Dennis!
Beautiful. Simply beautiful, DJ
Ah Russell, thank you!
Fantastic! Loved every well turned word. Beautiful! Also love the illustration. A different style for you and very effective.
Thank you, Jude. Means the world to me, a compliment from you :)