The Cocks and The Hens

Of the awake soul, she calls me of the morning
she calls it laughter, and the loose sighs
of the downright woman, I find
fine threads in the downhome man.
sweet comfort, rain comes behind his wailing guffaw,
I feign presence, the life of my rooster, the trail of my sighs.
tell me another story, don’t teach me another lie.

the gathering has commenced, glory groups once again,
writhe in spherical pressure, the agony of repetitive birth.
call to me with your spoils, the nourishment
of time and our feasts. the gallantry of the cock.

she calls me of the morning. I call her of the night.
the free range of our laughter.
responsibility wanes. those hard days behind.

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About Kate Houck

Educator. Human. Poet. Seeking truth through experience.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized, Woman and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to The Cocks and The Hens

  1. A fine, fine poem, Kate. Love the five lines of the opening and the ending. Great job with the diction and word play.

    Xxx
    D.

  2. 5h2o says:

    There is a lot in this poem that really pulls the reader in. Love the rythm. Nice job.

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