February 9, 2018
Photo by Jane Paradise
The sweetened condensed harlequin duck romance
A Poem by Jack Wesdorp
Prince Duckie arrives in tatters,
tries his luck with princess Feather,
and by five-o-clock he’s got her.
So … their lineage is together.
Alas her eggs are sterile stinks.
As conscientious waterfowl
they go to the millpond clinic
to consult Licentius the owl.
This worthy bleats in Latin slur,
like this, “in ovum veritash,”
and “in vitro non shequitur,”
our duckie pair believes he’s boss.
Make an appointment, leave your loot,
we’ll quack the insemination.
Exactly how that’s done is moot,
Feather lacks that information.
Two months later she parades forth
seven beautiful fluffy chicks.
We’re not sure just who, but they’re worth
a bevy of camera clicks.
What does it matter and who cares
if they hoot, honk, gobble at dawn.
What’s important is that they’re there
and Prince tatters looks very swan.