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Gallus Gallus Domesticus-For The Love Of Chicken!

by yumi


Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for mature content.

The first time we met, you were so cute, and so fascinatingly feathery I felt like I could lose myself in them. I have always loved chicken: I would eat chicken fingers on Thanksgiving if it were socially acceptable. I never used to believe in love at first sight. But my heart raced and felt like it would burst out of my chest at your initial reaction to me, which was more like a frightened doe caught in the blinding headlights of an approaching Lincolin than a flightless bird. Or, more accurately, like the fattest deer in the flock singled out by a cunning greyhound. Ere long you began to run about so absurdly as to make it impossible to catch you easily, like a true Gallus Gallus Domesticus. The emotion I felt was like the home run feeling, that jump over the fence feeling. I was in love.

Now, five years have passed, and our love has only grown, into something rare and beautiful. Much like the young woman I have seen blossom before my eyes a wanderess, a wildflower, concealed memories in the valley of your breasts, and folded secrets between your highs like napkins:

In my mind, you are naked in my armchair before me as I run my fingers just down the long place where the insides of your thighs touch. All the way to your knees I go, and then I let go of your legs, and they fall slightly apart, and as my hands start to move up inside them, with my fingers splayed wide, they move farther and farther apart. Then I lift your knees and hook them over the arms of the armchair, so that you're wide open for me, and in the darkness your bush is still indistinct. I look up at you, and I touch your shoulders with my hands, and pass my fingertips all the way down over your breasts and over your stomach and just lightly over your bush, just to feel the hair. Then, I lick both your nipples once very briefly good-bye, and I breathe my way down, and I pass over your bush this time with my mouth, and I see where the skin stops, and where the hair begins. And I keep going, and your legs are spread wide, and so I kiss inside one knee, and then across to the other, and up, back and forth,. And at the end of each kiss I give a little upward lick with my tongue, up lick, lick, lick, back and forth, moving closer and closer to where your thighs meet...

When I touch your body like that, my heart seems to explode, and when I kiss you my knees grow weak. But though I could kiss you a thousand times and still not be satisfied, my love for you is endless, so tender, so hot and complete. an example not of lust, but pure love that is more than love.

My love for you is a friendship that has caught fire, it is quiet understanding, confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection and makes allowances for human weaknesses. My love is content with the present, it hopes for the future, and it doesn't brood over the past. It's the day in and day out chronicle of irritations, problems, compromises, small disappointments, big victories, and working toward common goals.

In the moment we met all those years ago, out of all the people in the world, you became The One. Replace chicken feathers for an accent that persists in my heart as much as in your speech, reaching me across telephone lines from a strange, strange place where you could wear flip-flops and snow boots both in one week. I think your name has been inscribed in my heart before I knew your name. I whisper your name each morning and each night to the stars, just to taste the sound of you on my lips. I will love you for the rest of my life, no matter what.

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Tue Jan 12, 2021 11:58 pm



Might we be permitted to ask; why?




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Tue Jan 12, 2021 11:20 am
Alpha wrote a review...



Hi there, Alpha here for a review.


This is an interesting poem that took me a few reads to uncover the essence of. There are many elements at play here: I see that causality is maintained (in a non-linear fashion, but I'll get into that soon), the non sequitors and fascinating (ehem) juxtapositions seem to place this possibly as absurdist fiction. Was that the intent?

Your usage of imagery is interesting and unconventional, while still using well known idioms. I want to focus on one in particular:

like a frightened doe caught in the blinding headlights of an approaching Lincolin than a flightless bird.


I gather from this -being from outside the USA- that a (Lincoln?) is a form of transportation. I like the scene you set with this phrase. (On first read, I thought you wrote "than a headless bird" and realised my mistake afterwards. I do think headless bird is an idiom that would juxtaposition nicely with the 'doe in the headlights'.)

In terms of flow within this piece, it seems to focus on that narrator's object of affections. The featheriness and the abject mentioning of chicken, as a point of focus, was an interesting choice. It made me uneasy reading that alongside the sexual imagery used in the paragraph in italics, but perhaps that was your intention. If so, you've succeeded. One thing I've noticed is that you have the word 'my' in normal font, while the rest is in italics. Did you mean to put the emphasis there? If so, it seems unnecessary to me. What purpose does it serve?

Explicitness in short pieces always comes across to me as a way to bulk up the word count or serve the writer's feelings at the time of writing. It feels a tad out of place, as if it was written there because you can. The linearity is thrown off by that. In fact, without it, the piece continues with the poultry imagery until the end, where you bring it back to your object of affections.

The first part of the final paragraph is especially excellent, it reminds me of an exercise we do in drama: pick a number between 0 and 10, where you're fully an animal at 10, and a human at 1. This piece reminds me of that a lot.

In conclusion, while I found this piece odd and why-would-anyone-think-of-this-y, I find a lot of potential and very well written phrases (especially the final paragraph). Hope this helps and hit me up if anything was unclear. This was my first review since... August 2015. Yay?

Keep writing!
Alphs





The chains of habits are too light to be felt until they are too heavy to be broken.
— Warren Buffet