The Magistrates by Peter McCann Ashton

the magistrates of destiny are powerless before me
i strut therefore

it is inherent to the principles of survival that
in light of the negotiated codicils

and civil and other penalties for preening feathering etc
that we mitigate

to an extent
after all it is some undetermined number of

decimals on the one hand
zeros on the other

what were we talking about
ach der dodo ja si claro

el dodo
a bird for all seasons

dressed to the nines with a jaunty look
of il pense je ne sais quoi in his eyes

at least in later years
the one without the patch

the dodo
let us consider the dodo

a native of mauritius we are told until
his investments all went south last seen

sad covered in sticky brownish discharge
and undistilled petroleum

the dodo lights please thenk yoo
here we see the last known nesting pair at play

happier times he proud confident
she coy a little naughty mr

henchley i am sure miss peterson isnt interested in that
put it away mr henchley thenk yoo so

the dodo
and le grand question that i am sure is on all your

henchley
miss garcia isnt interested either no

no mr henchley
no she isnt

(sigh)
the dodo

.

——

Peter McCann Ashton lives and writes in Conimicut, RI on the shores of Narragansett Bay, the cradle of American dissent.