Mr. Hen

Scientists suggest that hairs

on the human body are merely

modified scales or feathers.

The feathers on chickens

are plucked from the body

with paraffin, or are singed.

I met a chicken once. He didn’t say

much. He chased me to a closet. He showed

me around. He followed me home.

Each time was different, each time at the end

I told myself he was laying the egg.

Each time he was equal pitch, chicken and monster.

I think I’ll look him up.

I think I’ll write him some letters.

I think I’ll call him Mr. Hen.