Page 25

Cacklin’ They tore open pet cats, turned guts into string. Tore feathers from Cacklin’ corpses for beds. Ripped down Cacklin’ trees, just to burn. Put mother…a stew. Me don’t go to forest for them. WHAT lives in forest. WHAT hunt all. Me hunt WHAT. They only see WHAT meat me drag back. Me go to hollow of one tree to eat in dirt. They understand nothing. In forest me keep out WHAT. From Cacklin’ home, not them safe. Me strip bark from saplings to scatter in Cacklin’ circles. I yank down elk from hills and leave split and wailing. Me squawk and howl from top of water tower.

Me live warning

If You Give a Monster a Cookie, acrylic on canvas, 18 x 24 inches

Me protect Cacklin’ home. Where me brothers. Me mother. Me trees, cats, nests, rain puddle wishing nights, eggs, clucking sprigs, rain bathing, rushing locust springs, for killing WHAT as family should, for scraping beaks, for a full nest, full hope, full feathers, cooing over Cacklin’ lets, all tut-whit-ta-whooing over first flights, clicking grey grey remembrances, to whooing the wind, to scratching the one tree, to fish winters and rabbit summers, to WHAT fires, to roost love, preening, cawing, ruffling together into giant Cackling mist of feather, to not alone. Me remember. Never for them. Me own ghost, yeah.

e k p h r a s i s 25

Art Focus Oklahoma May-June 2016  

Art Focus Oklahoma May-June 2016

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