Wooden Duck: A Poem

The wooden duck on the file cabinet
What the f is it
The hell is it doing there
Is it trying to fly away
Eat my face today?
That wooden duck eats chips
Turns them into wood chips
That wooden duck, who is it?
Can it remember?
Can it forget?
Who the hell built this?
Is this needed?
Where will he go?
What could he know?
That wooden duck
Sitting there
What's his thought?
On anything
Can he still sing?
Sits in the office of a hunter
Without a single feather
His is mother aware
His she a tree or a duck
Which is which?
Was he a duck cursed by a witch
Either way he's dead
Lying there with a wooden head
Wondering when he will be gone
Sitting with his tree on the lawn
He's always going to be duck
No matter what
I'll still love him
Until his end