Many of the Girl Scout songs

extorted a smile, our servile mugging —

but this one we loved best.

Starring a calf being hauled in a minor key,

its refrain two mournful syllables: dona.

First came the long o — in induction/seduction

to join the animal's cargo cult, then came

the short a, when the calf turned to beef

with no last meal and no reprieve.

The gist of the lyric: that we could choose

to be the calf in the cart or the bird in the sky;

the idea was simple, but also a lie: dona.

Bird is small and can fly where it wants

but it'll never be Miss Teen USA,

whereas the word abattoir was a chic French Kiss

our tongues would enter willingly.

Let that bird flitter off

like a dry dead leaf: this was a hymn

that we sang on our knees

on the dais by the flag, dressed in our sashes

and green berets like irregulars planning

a suicide mission: there was glory ahead

when we signed on, clambered into the wagon,

and let the future hitch up its horse.
From Inseminating the Elephant, Copper Canyon Press, 2009. Published with permission.

We're celebrating the life of Lucia Perillo all December. More details here. Previously: Monorail.