A parrot of irritation sits
on my shoulder, pecks
at my head, ruffling his feathers
in my ear. He repeats
everything I say, like a child
trying to irritate the parent.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZzP_mcz7VL8E9hxhSLQRt2A3btF1rmPKNYX3rD214uBuV2pig4fz4SKVqsTaQHJKvvF2Grc1gnxqghssyJyhIC62OF40GInICRvfN0B8bKbtkBkCzJV5TfPeyCwBkGICvJ24Kl25n2pY/s200/0y7mb.jpg)
that's outgrown its pot, a mountain
of bills to pay and nothing in the house
to eat. Too many clothes need washing
and the dog needs his shots.
It just goes on and on, I say
to myself, no one around, and catch
myself saying it, a ball hit so straight
to your glove you'd have to be
blind not to catch it. And of course
I hope it does go on and on
forever, the little pain,
the little pleasure, the sun
a blood orange in the sky, the sky
parrot blue and the day
unfolding like a bird slowly
spreading its wings, though I know,
saying it, that it won't.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokILsT0KCO6UTgXQ6HujyLTscOsOI7113yKITUyGuDZtSo_ZKJeQvWEYcb9p7PlSGI5MUNLqsYHT5NDIKtSSRpfnOsmETMXOvMni8x7uvV97VBBy7qYBEkzuEH-A0pqgsc4qLXoHb3KQ/s400/ACF1CC1.jpg)
Photograph: Unknown (originally color).
No comments :
Post a Comment
Thank you for participating respectfully in this blog's community of readers.