Her Albatrossity
Once I had a favorite quest,
a lovely nest where rare protest
would bar my rooster from its roost
and once seduced, a wondrous boost
would energize each heart and soul
to consummate our common goal
(not common in the common sense
but magnifique—one can’t dispense
with such essential, exponential,
existential great potential,
procreating all mankind,
though that’s not often on one’s mind).
But now, she’s given me the bird
with unkind words which all averred
distaste, dislike, disturbed disgust
avowing scornfully I must
depart her aerie, fly her coop
and not return—no loop-de-loop.
I’m disallowed; no call will beck
this albatross around her neck—
head swaying near that resting place
whose memories she’ll soon erase—
forever tethered by discord
while I keep pining for her fjord.
Author: Ken Gosse
Photo: Nareeta Martin on Unsplash
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