The Parakeet
“I Do! I DO! I Do!” delight at the actuality of marrying
my grandmother. Did she soar, as I do at the retelling?
I don’t know. But I do know when cancer took his bride,
he was not far behind, never again sleeping in their bed,
hearing her voice, like an angel’s voice. He didn’t do
without her, her wings tapping at the window’s periphery.
Surely at the pearly gates, first the reunion of his fate,
then his “I do’s,” illuminate, ruminate, and soar, landing
at the feet of his lovely parakeet, who flies for his pleasure.
12/29/2020
*I chose the bird my grandmother
kept as a pet in her kitchen.
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