Fowl Feminanity


The chicken coop unmanned, adrift at sea
Rolls aimlessly upon hormonal swells.
Her crew, well-versed in gynecology
Repaint in pink dull feminism’s hells.
Such lunacy as ovulates their womb
Impels them now to celebrate our doom.

First freed from God, then finally, from men,
The silly sailors, decked like women’s parts
Scold gender’s greater half, like hens, and then
Cluck on, devoid of biologic arts;
Useless fowl, squawking fit to neuter us
Who dare exist without a uterus.




Stoking the Pussyfires

Feline Frenzy

PROMPT #5: incorporate a whole bunch of things into a metaphoric poem

One comment on “Fowl Feminanity

  1. I assure you, not even being in the possession of a uterus can save you sometimes. :)

    Liked by 1 person

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