The Flock of Bronze Parrots

What a long day! yuk! Tomorrow I have the St. Kieran Dinner Dance and then a ardent weekend of work.

It was at the age of three
when a bronze parrot decided
to perch on his shoulder.

At the time he broke
his mother’s vase: a priceless treasure,
and he started to run and eschew her.

The parrot would pierce his body
with it’s grotesque talons,
and would squawk over and over.

In the night the parrot would feed
him musty crackers of remembrance
which were stale, yet bitter.

The more he would run,
hide, and cause mischief
as he grew older and older.

More of these demon parrots
would feast on his body
and his whole life became heavier.

One landed on his head
when he broke a window,
another when he became a cheater.

Until, he became stolid,
while a flock of birds would,
in his continuous guilt, make him suffer.