Black Hen

Black Hen

A black-feathered hen at nest cackled
at last and moved to peer down
at the fresh laid black canker
that had suddenly appeared under her.
She cackled and sat and slept and waited
to see what the black canker fated.
An age passed as she squirmed and cackled and slept and squirmed.
An age of men eating chickens and worms eating men and chickens eating worms.
Her bright red comb grew drab and faded but never the end could be confirmed.

An aeon later and at last
the eternal wait was passed.
The hen was dead, her dust long spread,
But the egg shuddered like something that wanted to be fed.

The shell sundered, revealing emptiness.
The emptiness peered out with the hungry eyes of all that dies
onto the blackened skies where it had no ties.

And proceeded to lay an empty shell.