I stare at my sixty-eight-year-old grandmother in disbelief.
You got a parrot, Grandma?
She nods, pleased.
Do you have any idea how long a parrot lives?
I hope he outlives me, she says.
I think that is a given.
I look it up.
Parrots live between eighty and a hundred years.
Isn’t he adorable? She asks me.
He gives me a hard beak look.
Outstares me.
I love him! She says.
If I die first, you will take care of him, right?
I have never liked birds after the Alfred Hitchcock movie.
I take a closer look at the feathered fiend.
Under my breath I say “you look stupid.”
“YOU LOOK STUPID!” he yells at me.
Oh, yes, I will take care of him.
Categories:
outstares, animal,
Form: Narrative
If water is life, death is ice, indeed.
The frost does not call for a long walk,
but it turns plain water into diamonds, though.
Only a month ago,
the lake had a staring contest with the sky
and apparently, the lake blinked.
You didn’t have the slightest chance, the lake:
the eternal sky always outstares
both you and me.
How nice to hear diamonds crunch underfoot!
I feel the frost is nipping my fingertips,
but the sun is already warming.
Soon our blue eyes,
yours, beautiful and elongated,
and mine, shortsighted and small,
will stare up again.
And then,
when the time of this world will come to an end,
we turn into steam and get back to the sky...
There's something comforting about this thought,
isn’t there,
my dear lake?
15.04.2019
Intensity Poetry Contest
Julia Ward
Categories:
outstares, nature, water,
Form: Free verse