No Cute Pets
The Wild Turkey Gang

There are nine or ten of them, with their
mottled feathers slicked back, sullen and shifty-eyed,
loitering on the planted patch near the highway tunnel,
watching the cars go by like a bunch of
teenagers with nothing to do.
Now and then, one of them pecks the grass
and sways slightly, as if hes stoned and mellow.
The leader, gobbling orders,
bobs his neck in time to a hidden rhythm,
like heavy metal drifting up from the
roadway, clanging raucous into tiny turkey ear buds.
Motorists gape, but the birds stand with practiced
indifference. They only care about gang rules
and working on their strut.
 



 
 
 
 
Copyright 2013,  Gabriella Brand

Gabriella Brand's fiction, poetry and essays have appeared in Room Magazine, The Christian Science Monitor, The Citron Review, The Waterhouse Review, and PIF. She divides her time between Connecticut, where she teaches languages, and Quebec, where she writes, hikes, canoes, and daydreams.


<< Previous      Contents      Next   >>