Hermit Crab on the Woodpecker
Poor old woodpecker tried
the telephone pole. Forty-thousand
calls, dropped into the sea
Of all the things the humans say
how much of them
have been said forever?
I am hungry. I am thirsty
I am crawling inside
something else to sleep
I can’t come to the phone right now
I am staying behind
on my own
to fidget with the mammoth carcass
Maybe its bladder
can be made into a bladder!
It’s your night to cook
Where are the hand attachments?
The forks, the knives, the spears
Why do hands make
such inadequate weapons
that we should have to
consider what we hold
before killing, before pulling off
the side of the road?
How long have words
been a part of the head?
Slanted lights
in black water, used
for tricking smaller fish
into listening, into
getting uncomfortably close
unedit 
Reblogged this on The Sand County and commented:
This is simply awesome. Britt does it again. I love his wit.
Britt, this poem is just terrific. I love everything about: the humor, the acute observations, the philosophical questions. I even love the caricatures.
I wish I’d written it. 🙂
The ultimate poet’s compliment! Thanks Jeremy. Hope you’re well.
You are very welcome! It’s an awesome piece of work which I shared with my sister who loved it too.
I’m hanging in there, as always. 🙂
You have a great way of making my sour smile bleed honey
Could say the same about your comments. Please keep it up.