TOTI O'BRIEN
The Hen
My neighbor
has a chicken.
They were two
but the hawk
killed one.
The survivor
alone is
restless.
Also quiet ‘n
very beautiful.
All dressed
up with a
maculate
grey coat. Poised
and elegant.
More than all
furtive.
The hen likes
my backyard
‘n my garden
she’s my
silent visitor.
When I leave
come back
open a
window or
door the
chicken is
there. We
never exchange
direct gazes
we were not
introduced. We
don’t talk.
But she’s
there and it
must be for
something.
Pretending
great shyness
she always
disappears
at my sight
she runs jumps
turns around
flies away whenever
I approach.
That looks just
like a dance of
clandestine
lovers.
I must confess
that it thrills me.
I don’t feel alone
she guards me or
she spies on me...
doesn’t matter. I
do like her smooth
elusiveness... I
don’t even know
her given name
but she’s very
close in a way.
Like an angel
a soul mate
a humble
incognito
god.
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