Building Castle out of Coop

Dawdling & hen-
pecked. Bits of feed
caked to feet. Beak
like spur; waves of dust
swirl around iron
wrought cage.
I think
This is beautiful,
& now I never
have to leave.
Even if the barbs sting.
Even though the light
is electric.

Riding Red with the Wolf

Say I’m bad. That I’ll never change. That I’ve got a thousand cloaks
            to deceive you with. But this is my car & we’re in it, driving
& fighting, driving & you’re saying look at your fingers from those cigarettes
            or these slippers are not fitting so you are not my prince.
Evidence is circumstantial. I am merely clutching the wheel
            because if I don’t drive we don’t get anywhere.
Look how I’m always right even when I’m beaten.

            But we’re in this car & there’s a bully in the backseat
telling me to release the clutch. Switch gears.
            Now the car is red. Now we’ve got the top down
& our hair is wild. Our trash cascades behind us.
            All stations are static & gospel, static
& praise.

Oh darling, sweet nothing, you loved me & I just drove.
            It’s all I knew how to do. & it’s true:
I was the wolf in your bed.
                                            I would have eaten you alive.  

Jakob VanLammeren lives and writes in Chicago, Illinois. His poems have appeared in Pebble Lake Review, queerzinelit.com, and Hanging Loose magazine.