I had a beautiful parakeet
when I was a child
One day, its foolish feathers failed to shine
and was found in the sawdust at
the bottom of the cage
Wise Mother
Knowing the upset this would cause
rushed out to the store for a replacement
and picked the perfect imposter
coloured plumes in symmetry
copycat curve to the beak
and inquisitive shine to the eyes
And yet despite her efforts in
securing the doppelganger
I knew it wasn’t the same pet
And that is why
I had to kill that one as well
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
lol. good poem. The last line was delivered in a cold, matter-of-fact style that stops the reader dead in his tracks, whereupon he must choose to either grin or grimace. I grinned. Well done.