Ink, by Jennifer Arp, July 2005

Ink

Damn geese

Raising a ruckus.

What now?

I slip on my shoes

And, still in my night clothes,

I head for

The poultry palace.

Somehow,

They’ve managed

To close the gate

And penned themselves

In.

Haven’t we all done that

From time to time?

I did for nearly

Twelve years.

It took me that long

To figure out

How to open the latch.

I just hope

I have the goose sense

To not

Pen myself up again,

Unless it simply involves

Ink.

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