A Pea Hen’s Lament
Does it look to you like I am happy?
I didn’t choose these feathers or these wings.
Bewitched into this form in my dream one night,
I have no appetite for human food or the joy it brings.
All I really care for are those apples.
Up in the tree I hide and eat those apples.
GloPoWriMo Day 13 - Donald Justice's form
This poem is a part of a longer project
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