Bullet Goose by Erik Fuhrer
There was a goose who lived in my grandmother’s attic. It had lived there since the first world war and had bullets in its flesh where feathers once grew. Its daily clickaclink rang in our ears each morning as it dragged its cyborg body across the unfinished floor. Every now and then it would bury its face in the pink insulation so as to shield its beak from our eyes because it was graying and wrinkled and come to think of it not very gooselike at all.
Erik Fuhrer is a PhD and MFA candidate in English and poetry. His work has been published, or is forthcoming, in After the Pause, Figroot Press, Neologism, Otoliths, Third Wednesday, Riggwelter, BlazeVox, and various other online venues.