A Fox is Mingling with the Chickens.

(This poem was written for Danielle Fox, an excellent poet, who has not written anything for awhile. I do know that she recently underwent dental surgery and while this is serious, I find it no excuse to stop writing. This poem is designed to light a fire under her ass.)

I've noticed that you haven't written anything in a long while.

You need to start stalking the coop again, get those chickens

riled up again. Get the clucks and the feathers ruffled.
I know you're worried about those teeth. That's it, isn't it?
Get the fuck over that shit, is what I say.
William Carlos Williams tapped out shit after five strokes.
With his right index finger. He just tapped and perspired and
tapped some more.
Now, I don't really know if it was five strokes, all right?
Wikipedia said it was a series of strokes.
And I don't rightly know if it was his right index finger, they didn't
say. But I do know that most stroke victims can lose mobility
on one side of their bodies. I don't know if Williams was a lefty,
but most people aren't, so I'm giving his tragic story the benefit of
small miracles.
The point is, fox, you need to get back in there and tear those fowl
up. Tell 'em who's boss.