Saturday, October 3, 2015

It's your bird

It's your bird

A sailor taught the bird to curse.
Now there is nothing to be done,

profanity and earthiness
an integral part of its vocabulary.

It can't be unlearned
though it knows not a single definition.

No changing of feathers now;
no silencing cover up

or wringing it's pretty green neck.
It's your bird.  You can't disown it.

But unhitch its tether; stop feeding it.
The best you can, live with it

until the day it undertakes
through an open window

its flight long forgotten and among the heights
renounces its acquired, artificial ability to speak.

O child of God, neither parrot nor songbird
bears even the slightest resemblance to truth.

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