Old Joke
Her husband thought he was a chicken.
When the summer was over
he perched on the back of the sofa
and while she played solitaire
he tilted his head
as if listening for the rumble of worms,
or slept with one eye open.
If she offered him a bowl of cereal
he picked out the raisins and left the rest.
When she was at the doctor’s
discussing her various allergies
to feathers and fluff
she confessed that her husband
thought he was a chicken.
The doctor couldn’t help but say
I’m sure we can help him
but I’m also sure you need the eggs.
She had never found that joke funny.
When she got home she called out
until she found him
sat on a low branch in the garden.
He had never been keen on fitting in
and that was why she loved him.
Paul Bavister has published three collections of poetry with Two Rivers Press. His work has appeared in Drawn to the Light, Dream Catcher and Dark Winter.
