Fort the Birds

It's time for another poem.

Related to Herons

My friends can’t believe

what they see from the street.
They watch my brother
catch mice like a hawk
in the front yard. Something
about our diet makes them sick.

They say my family’s

for the birds. I guess they’re right.
Uncle Nick is a hungry pelican,
his throat full of fish phlegm & scales.
Aunt Lucy has a very sharp nose.

My sister Greta wears a boa

to disguise her feathered wings.
My friends won’t give her a break.
They call her “Pige!” & flap their arms.
I know what she wants to tell them.

Mama’s screeching makes Dad nervous.

It causes us all to jump.
He throws up his wings, pretty
much ignores the whole thing.
I wonder if he’s happy.

I fluff my plume in the birdbath reflection.

My great aunt says I’m a peacock.
Her husband calls me a woodpecker.
The chickens in the yard taught me to walk.
My colors absolutely swagger.

I know a girl who wants to lay eggs.

She sings the sweetest song I’ve ever heard.
We have a little nest no one knows about
in the pine behind the house next door.
I hope to get married in the spring.

Mom says I’m not ready.

Dad says it just won’t work.
“Wanna end up like me, pal?
Nest fulla yippers waitin for puke?”
he says more than I care to hear.
All I can do is whistle my love.