Chicken scratch

Steven Baird

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It’s the same, every night. I reach for the dream, and I’m grabby-fingered, grievous.

The dream– no, she — is my beautiful. The woman, alone, in front of a barn, tossing scratch to the chickens. She wears a faded bluey sundress, and it is judiciously short, judicious sassy, cut just above the knees, threadbare and very old. It is 1960’s Flower-Power aphrodisia. She doesn’t care. She loves who she is, and I’m a bystander. I see her from profile: the tilt of her hips, the slow current of her arms, the equid arch of neck. Her hair is long, and it flows like a fire beside a curved river. This is her, and this is her’s.

The light captures every grain of the chicken scratch, effervescent dust, as it drifts to the dirt. Even in dreams, everything is bound by gravity. The sun falls below the hills, bloody and huge, and she is cast in it, a form too pure to be possessed. Her dress becomes invisible and she is a body radiant.

She turns to me and turns from me, and I understand. And I grieve.

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35 thoughts on “Chicken scratch”

  1. D. Wallace Peach November 17, 2017 / 2:44 am

    This is so beautiful, Steven. So you. I miss reading your writing and look forward to more… whatever you have to offer. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply
    • Steven Baird November 17, 2017 / 11:02 am

      Thank you, Diana. I’ve been struggling with migraines and other ailments, but I am trying to get things together. I appreciate your kind comment. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply
  2. Ocean Bream November 17, 2017 / 8:54 am

    This is wonderfully beautiful, an image of a scene captured in magnificent words. I would very much like to frame it.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  3. wyco November 17, 2017 / 3:52 pm

    There’s a lot of depth and imagery here…beautiful work.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  6. mtaggartwriter November 21, 2017 / 10:21 pm

    This reminds me of The Wizard of Oz. Timeless. Well fucking done. I know I’ve already commented, but I’m back for another go round.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  8. Pingback: At the Mirror: Chicken Scratch | Myths of the Mirror
    • Steven Baird December 8, 2017 / 9:01 pm

      Thanks so much. Diana is a wonder for promoting other writer’s works. Thanks for taking the time to read this. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply
  12. Almost Iowa December 8, 2017 / 7:00 pm

    Even in dreams, everything is bound by gravity.

    I love that line; but I am thinking…sometimes.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
  14. Vashti Q December 11, 2017 / 6:42 pm

    Hello Steven! What a lovely story! I’m glad I followed it to its conclusion from Diana’s blog (Myths of the Mirror). Sharing! 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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