Wild Turkeys in the Forests of Pleiades

Turbo maltese
cross like the sixties
choppers sissy bar insert
spinning in the corridor of the
wild turkeys roosts, thanksgiving
not a capitalized Pleiadean holiday
to be reckoned with,

picayunes and
nihilists and ecclesiastical
fanaticists religious doctrines,
extreme revolutionaries such as
those in Russia who seek violence,
censorship and assassination to change
the structure,

misgovern religion
in Pleiades you are shunned,
reduced to the demotion of
Pluto to a dwarf planet,

monks hood
starched to stand
up to the lunatics who
would pick off the wild turkeys
in the forests of Pleiades with the
precision of the compass crosshairs,
no rifle scopes allowed, direction of west
where the wild turkeys feed on Malmaison,
race of carnation, and no Pleiadean has ever
tasted, or had ever better taste the sweet meat
of the wild turkey or lay a finger on the white breast
fattened by Malmaison,

the Pleiadean women
have no desire to the kitchen
on the day of thanks, they commune
with the wild turkeys in the forests of Pleiades -
the children mentored in polytheistic, matriarchal
soul nourishment where in the cosmos - a quest
animates creativity, prayers are written in jazz, cosmic
octaves breathe,

there are
no dishes to
do, no leftovers
to ziplock, it is below
extraterrestrial intelligence,
we watch wild turkeys of Pleiades
on thanksgiving day, their wings dust
the particles of the solar wind - earthlings
heal abuses.

Copyright Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist