All is Forgiven

As birds go, I suppose,
you were unexceptional.
Though a lovebird,
you were tough to love.

You treated my fingers
as masked intruders
fighting them and biting
whenever in your cage.

You forbade me touch you,
scratch your head,
or your beak, your breast
or your back.

But still … I did love you.
Wanting to be with me
you leaped to my shoulder
riding it to my office.

You raced up and down my arm
unable to wait for your serving
of ice cream, but I had to
serve it on a spoon.

You’d chirp and shriek
at the kitchen sink
until I’d draw your bath
in a Texas Bluebonnet glass.

Then, freed from the trap,
you nibbled my fingers
nuzzled my neck
and let me scratch your head.

Letting me love you
as I’d always wanted,
you gifted me.
And then you died.

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