At the Farm
Chickens are the softest animals
that I have pet so far. I know because even
when my mom saw me touch the hen,
even when she half screamed,
“Nohoneytheyhavegerms!” I couldn’t
take my hand off the silky smooth feathers
that were the color of freshly
dug up Earth. Chickens are also the saddest
animals that I have met so far. Before my mom
pulled me away, I bent down and looked into
her eyes. They were fixed, looking at the crystal sky.
I wonder if she was thinking of where she would go, if she could.
Then, my mother yanked my hand away from
the hen and slathered hand sanitizer over it.
When we left the farm, freshly
picked apples in our canvas bag,
I rubbed the car blanket with my fingers,
but it wasn’t as soft as she had been.
Hannah Rousselot is a queer DC based poet. She writes poetry about the wounds that are still open, but healing, since her childhood and the death of her first love. Her work has appeared in Voices and Visions, PanoplyZine, and Postcard Poems and Prose. In addition to writing poetry, Hannah Rousselot is also an elementary school teacher. She teaches a poetry unit every January, and nothing brings her more joy than seeing the amazing poems that seven-year-olds can create. facebook.com/hmrpoetry