Mandolove

Holding my pen like a plectrum,

faux-tortoiseshell twixt finger and thumb,
my hand a strong connection.

I reckon the function
of a plectrum is to cluck
like a chicken, but it also plucks

at the junction
of air and ŌM,
thrumming a breath connection,

whether election or reflection,
fate or skipping stone,
when I wield my pen like a plectrum.

And the outcome of a chicken
is to be a plucked hen,
a chicken-feather confection—

the whole caboodle lifted on a fulcrum
of picked and fermented corn,
when my pen strikes like a plectrum—
sweet doodlection!