The Middle OneA Poem by Ellen
I wrote this under assignment for my English class; it's one of the first pieces I've ever written in the poetic genre, so I'm not sure how I feel about it, but here goes.
The Middle One
You want my advice?
Never mess with geese.
With nose-hungry beaks and wings the size of Jupiter.
Before they decide that what your lawn really needs is goose s**t,
That’s when they’re cute.
Chipper sunshine yellow, fading too fast to neon gray.
I was bedside-There’s five and eight!
I watched with pond-dipped toes, until I got it-
“Don’t stay so close-they’re gonna drown.”
I guess I couldn’t swim at 3 days either.
Inadvertent, attempted, murder. Do I go to jail for that?
Gosling napping? Yeah, that wouldn’t fly
Mother Goose would send me to time out.
Nasty things but never finished Pre-K, can’t even count-now six and seven!
I tried to reason with him, reverse the mutiny,
But maybe he just likes that gaggle better,
This is identity crisis-goose style. Or,
Maybe he, whichever one “he” is,
Like me, can’t tell the difference.
© 2010 Ellen
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