Goose, you’ve got a day, maybe two. What is that
in goose-years—what long-neck thoughts repeat
as you float backwards upside-down?
You glance around as if gliding on a pond—you are
your own reflection, rippling the housewife’s tread.
I hate to say she’ll bring you grief, but Goose,
her lockstep eyes! For now, best you enjoy
your journey, tied. As grass and seeds you ate
this morning grew for themselves, not you,
enjoy your feathers perfect fit, your held-leg
airy float. Enjoy your upside-down view as I
stand at the kitchen window of this rented house
in Normandy, six months pregnant, our son
turned two, lost, Goose, in sight of you.
***
Wendell Hawken (she/her) holds a MFA from Warren Wilson Program for Writers. Her publications include three chapbooks and five full collections. Hawken was recently named the inaugural poet laureate of Millwood, VA, where she lives on a northern Shenandoah Valley grass farm.
Cypress Review 