Philomen D’agostino Greenbird Iii Poem by Alexandra Reiss

You used to have a parakeet—
Only, you- called it a lovebird.

You named her Philly. Actually, her name was something exponentially more ridiculous, though I will not grant you the satisfaction you might feel if you were to perhaps come across this piece of writing later, reading in print the full name of your lovebird and my speculative childhood antagonist.

You said you loved it more than anything.

More than me and mom? No, you said. Besides, you said.

The lovebird hated your mother. Just hated her. Ha! She would fly straight at her neck, her beak on a collision course for her eyes, her throat. Ha!

Some lovebird.

She was jealous, you said.

Mom or the bird?

Both.