Flirtibird

flirtibird

Heavily dipped
in sweet warble,
your bored feathers
spread wide as a peacock,
strut upper and outest.

You are blissfully unaware
or perhaps your happy anatomy,
hard-set, craves a sunswept Sunday,
the midnight indigo?

Men scrump fruit below
the bent tree where you perch,
dropping songs,
tokens as innocent
as Mrs. Manion’s panties.

Quick, put on the tight girdle,
play the roll of a caged bird,
before the uptake on
low-key-lightly
might show your flutter
is consensual.



Tess Kincaid, September, 2010

Posted as Magpie challenge over on Life at Willow Manor