You put on my nightgown. You went to the bottom of the garden. As I watched you go, I could feel the dew between your toes. You disappeared into the chicken coop. The bedroom window was shut but, nose pressed to the glass, I imagined the cacophony. Rita, the cockerel we'd thought was a girl, was bound to be offended. I almost smiled.
There was pink lace edging my nightgown. The body of it was covered in little blue flowers. It reached to my ankles, but it hardly covered your knees. "You are absurd," I screeched, when you put it on. "I always loved you because you were so ferocious," you replied.
Alone, I went round to your side of the bed. I found your pyjamas. Cool, expensive cotton. A present from me, the week after I decided I didn't want to sleep naked anymore and donned my flowered tea cosy. I stroked the cloth and held the shirt up in the half light. I decided it would suit me. I slid one arm, then the other, into the sleeves. The trousers would be too long, so I folded them and put them at the bottom of the bed. I lay down and imagined you curled up on warm straw, Rita and his harem perched on top of you, cooing and clucking.
words: Kate Brown, Germany (postcards from a flat land)
'Naked' was shortlisted for the 'Fish One-Page Story Prize' earlier this year
image: 'la grande gidouille' - Jeff Crouch and Ross Priddle, originally published in The Crouch Collaborations. there also is a text version.
another feathered moment: Imaginary Birds (#24)