The Coop- Free Form 22.10.23

A rabid dog- If one could even classify him a canine. Fangs foaming, jowls- a vacuum of verbal violence, jaw expanding, snarling at a clueless chicken- so soon ago, just a chick, just mindlessly following a rooster into the unknown.

And, the chicken- who cannot fly, who cannot outrun, who is but an offering for the oesophagus of a mutt.

He stalks nearer, he snarls, his yellow enamel like urinated icicles- he smells of munched muscles, of festering flesh.

Chicken- she cannot caw, she dares not cry, the terrain has ingested her talons, grounding her for the imminent grace of death.

The hound is here- he can see the veins of her feathers, the freckles of her beak. And he embraces her. Chains her to the crook of his chest, tucking the chicken into a chokehold, nuzzling her into the nook of his neck.

He coos for the chicken, he rasps reassurance, promises of keeping her close, relentlessly coating her resistance- her misery- with his musty and moulding mange.