Ami Hendrickson "tyrannosaurus chicken"

she has descended

from dinosaurs

don’t think she doesn’t

know it

 

her free range feathers

spear-shaped

gold as yolks

tipped in black as if griddle singed

shine in the sun

 

if she tilts her head

she can see the sky

but why

would she want to

 

cooped up

she is safe as houses

with hay for her nest and all

the mealworms a girl could want

 

the Tall Ones laugh

when she runs to meet them

 

look

            they squawk

she recognizes us

isn’t that amazing

 

they choose not to know

her tetra chromatic vision

allows her to view colors

they lost long ago

 

she is not superlative

merely because she can pluck

an ultraviolet aphid

from a blade of grass

 

the laughter

does not bother her

after all

the Plucked Ones bring her food

and not vice versa

 

still...

 

on occasion

odors waft her way

from fryer fires within the kitchen

in the Big House

they assault her senses

pull at her primal fears

threaten to

batter her

 

yet she doesn’t

lose her head

 

instead

 

she rides the

ultraviolent wavelength

cackling as it tickles her gizzard brain

unleashing dormant dreams

memories of men in loincloths

clutching clubs and sticks on fire

 

she runs toward these Tall Ones too

though they run away

like flightless birds

for in her dreams

she has teeth

Bio:

Ami Hendrickson is a writer, editor, and screenwriter. Her work has most recently been featured in MORIA Literary MagazineF(r)ictionBarren Magazine, The Corvus Review, and The Cabinet of Heed. She also writes for famous horse trainers and equine organizations. She lives on a 150 year-old farm in Michigan with her daughter and their menagerie of critters, where she pines for a working TARDIS. Twitter: @MuseInks

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