March 2009 — Sentry

A clockwork bird
alighted on my sill,
whirring and clicking
and hissing out steam.

My dog-eared cat
hissed back,
from his place
in the parlor sun.

Hush,
I said,
from mine
in the wing-chair, hah!

What a fine picture,
we three,
eyeing one another
in the dying light.

I have nothing for you
chickadee,
I said,
(or was it a nuthatch?)

Clockwork birdy
turned his little brass head
this way and that.
Whir, buzz, clunk,

clunk, whir, buzz,
and shot a tarnished rivet
from under tail feathers
at my feline friend.

And click, clack,
click, clack,
click, clack,
off into firmament.

~*~
The son of American gypsy entertainers, Lucien E. G. Spelman was born and educated on the road, instilling in him a sense of adventure, wonder, and whimsy (some may say caprice), and the driving desire to disassemble the woof and warp of the human condition.

He has been, at times, a flamenco guitarist, an actor, a stuntman, and a ferry boat captain. Most importantly though, he has always written.

He has most recently been published in Susurrus Magazine, Apex Digest, Blood, Blade, & Thruster Magazine, and has upcoming work in The Willows Magazine, and The League of Laboring Poets.

He lives in Boston, Massachusetts with his wife, son, and an exquisitely ugly little pug.

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