Gabriel Gudding

The Fucked-Up Ostrich



One time there was an ostrich
checkered with blood
and blindfolded
with a kerchief

The ostrich was set loose
in a light wood
It went forth
in a rage of galloping

Dipping its Gandhi head
and cycling its munchkin wings
it tried to dislodge
the kerchief

With its prisoner chest
clapping the undergrowth
it burst over the salal
and the trillium
smacking trunks

As with a flight-bird slapping window glass
its beak became looser
with each impact
until finally it hung
by a bloody ligature

At this point the bird
seemed truly to panic
and began to gallop
in a tight circle

And its beak swinging around like that
resembled a clam on a string

As I watched the ostrich in horror
an arrow flew by me
The arrow went slowly
like a bullet
surrounded by music
And I knew

that whoever had come to save the bird
thought I had done this to it

Ignorant of its potential savior
the bird continued to circle
the little satellite of its beak
castaneting on its ligaments

As I dodged the arrows
and tried to explain
that I had not done this to it
I saw

that without the beak to hold it up
the kerchief had slipped
down the ostrich's neck

And then finally the ostrich saw
from its beakless head
my assailant
and his quiver and bow

And the ostrich attacked
with unparalleled vigor
his freaked-out
and lonesome savior