.
I once watched Michael Portillo on the TV
in an experiment in a decompression chamber,
and it somehow stuck with me-
.
how they closed all the doors
and as all the oxygen drained away
in just a few moments 8 minus 4 was 3.
.
So when my old red hen started to droop
and huddle in dark corners, crap stuck to her tail
I picked her up, and held her close to snap her neck,
.
but worried uncertain hands would leave her
with a head grotesquely skewed,
so I tried to chop off her head with an axe,
.
imagined a headless hen spraying blood,
spattering the deck. I thought then of Michael Portillo
and his lack of concern, so close to death.
.
I took a cardboard box, made her a nest;
she fluffed her feathers in the near dark,
settled to sleep. And one after another
.
I covered the box in bin liners tied tight,
set the box steady and level, put my ear
to plastic rustles and clucks of contentment.
.
And despite my dreams in the stifling dark,
I recommend this as a way to kill a chicken,
I’d recommend it still.
