2014-04-01T14:12:14-07:00April 1st, 2014|Nature|


The night is inky and hot
palm trees dunked in darkness

and it would be quiet
but for the swish of wind
and the periodic slam of rain
except the roosters here
didn’t get the memo
their ragged shrieks
gouging the blackness

I lay in bed
flanked by my sleeping family
feeling an old fear nest in my belly
wondering why a chicken’s yell
has choked my breath

and then realizing
it’s the same way I feel  in the city
as I am woken up
to hooting and howling
whenever a pack of guys drifts past our house
a part of me curious
about their conquest
a part of me wanting to hide

and the rooster scratches
his coarse holler into the sky again

and I think
what an impatient beast

then I pull the sheets up
over our sticky bodies
trying to be brave
like an edgy timid hen.

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