do playful poems count?
Let's say you brought a seagull home for a pet
and your mother said Watch out, they'll eat your eyes.
She sort of tosses that off on her way to work
but without the smirk that means she means it cute.
Okay, she has you worried -- you like your eyes.
This makes you think you'd better feed that bird
(You'd named her Erma, God know why)
so you open her a can of tuna fish --
hoo-boy, the way that gull goes at that fish! --
the can bangs through the kitchen spreading grease,
the gull beak-pecks it like a nail-drive gun,
you even thought she'd (Erma) eat the can
and hey, she tries! Watch out, the jagged edges!
That's you, forgetting birds are ignorant
and brutal. Is she gazing at your face?
Dessert? Or is she grateful, feeling love?
Admit it, you had feared she'd eat your eyes
but now you're mooning eye to eye with her.
Erma, you say, you're such a crazy fuck,
and here's the crazy part: she starts to coo.
She rubs her yellow beak against your cheek.
She hops up on your head and waves her wings.
She defecates white tuna-waste upon you
and damn it, shit, she goes and eats your eyes.
Labels: a gull