My Lover as Goose

// Kathleen Kenny

You came to bed wet
your ugly toes and flat feet.

You’d let yourself go,
drank, ate bird-cake full of fat.

You’d dried out, tried all my creams
to stop the feathers flaking off your back.

Your hair poked out
it was black and almost human.

Tie it back, I said. A goose with a tail

like a horse is ridiculous.

I’ll take the shears to you while you dream
your goosy dreams of cobbles and corn,

the difficulty of picking up small objects.
I will smooth your feathers, make you sleek

and strong. I will pride myself
at your silhouette heading out the V.