An Average Night of Male Comradery
by Brendan Dyer
I heard that people eat chicken wings to feel something communal
Because I guess sucking meat from marrow,
Like a chittering rodent-thing is a culture found mostly in a sports bar.
Somewhere in the town you grew up in.
But I also heard that chicken beaks can break through ice,
So when you talk to a chicken,
She must know that what you have to say is
Though you can’t know that
while chewing at her,
finding just the meat between her bones.
She licks her slender lips, sucking at her bird-tongue,
and wonders what you’re on about when you ask
to eat her meatless arms
then after a slow roast peel her skin
which shields her breast you so desire—you sick fork-surgeon, searching
for the succor of a
To feather gently at your fancy, lather in B-B-Q and funnel down your gullet
It’s chilling really that a chicken beak can break ice.
If only just the surface before shattering on its own.
You might not think of that though when
your tongue and teeth are tweezing,
A hair-thin strip of flesh from between parts of her you don’t care about.
Brendan Dyer was born in Connecticut and has spent the majority of his life there. He went to school feeling like he had to until he discovered writing and has since desired nothing but the classroom. He is a student in the WestConn MFA Program.