by Ethel Mortenson Davis after a conversation with Rita Hawes

Bought one of those
genetically modified chickens
(the one with the big breasts)

but she just sat there
in a clump
in the middle
of the yard–
didn’t get up
and peck and
scratch around

because her skinny
little legs couldn’t
lift her big chest
off the ground.

But that’s okay,
because a few weeks
in those little wire cages,
Big chicken breasts.

Millions of little cages whose
chickens are ripe
for picking.

My how we love our big breasts!

copyright 2010 I Sleep Between the Moons of New Mexico


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

8 responses to “Chickens

  1. Julie Catherine

    Ethel, what a statement of how we mess with Mother Nature to satisfy our own wants – awesome poem! I feel so sorry for the chickens ….

  2. Aw.. poor chickens.. soon to be served on a plate : (
    great poem btw : )

  3. Caddo Veil

    It’s a great poem, Ethel–am I the only one who found it amusing?

  4. Ethel, this is a powerful poem, and a commentary on the way we treat earth’s creatures, on genetically modified “food”, and on our disrespect for Gaia/nature in general. This is a subject dear to my heart – thank you for writing and posting this.

  5. sonjabingen

    I think it is also a commentary on how we view women in our society as objects. We are inhumane to animals for profit. Who cares what the quality is, just the quantity…SUPER SIZE AMERICA!

  6. A fowl practice, to be sure.

  7. Anna Mark

    Humour and sadness combined. A good satire…and it reminds me of some women I’ve seen whose breasts are too much for their slender frames.

  8. Oh, how this brings it home – rather tongue-in-check – how the miracle of life is manipulated. Of course it’s so often the $ that makes ‘man’ think he can do better than what comes naturally … and divinely. Very powerful, Ethel.

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