Poetry Journal

Issues / Volume 5 Issue 1 , July 2015



Gita Mammen

  Where he’d come from and how  
  through several sets of manned doors  
  drawing no one’s attention  
  was something that later generated  
  much delight  
  and several high level inquiries. 
  The vulnerable nape of neck  
  guileless skull curvature  
  slicked down cow-lick  
  and waddle with not a hint  of swagger.  
  Quietly seated in the mezzanine gallery 
  a young duck, not quite duckling  
  but not very much past  
  despite the mature freckles. 
  Okay, allowable the first time but day  
  after day? 
  Not a quack.  
  No droppings. 
  Not even a feather. 
  Firmly holding his ground  
  a good minute before allowing himself  
  to be ushered out by two security guards 
  only to reappear the next day  
  before the Bonnard.