Goose

I’ve prayed to St. Wulfstan for help
and, in my many hours of need, St. Jude,

“Ah! Men” I say! and while admiring
the cornflowers, buttercups and poppies

begged Mary Magdalene to intercede
but all to no effect, so I’ve resolved

to wear this strawberry blond toupee
dredged up out of the lily pond.

A little loose around the crown maybe
it does the job of hiding the bald spot

where our randy gander clamps my head
with his sharp and merciless beak

to have his feathered way with me each day
at feeding time behind the tractor shed.