Belch II

That human obsession, Liberty, for you,
Meant, not unbridled skies,
But freedom from assault, which,
Though you never suffered, believed
Eternally in the possibility of.

So day after day you sat tight
Depending on a cuteness you didn't even know
You had to impel your keepers to
Fill your twin cups with canary seed and tap-water.

Till the day you unaccountably
Fell off your perch, dead, your rubber band
Snapped, or unwound or something like that,
To the gravel floor of the cage,
Your belching days done,
There being no heaven for sparrows.

We fished you out, rolled you up
Carefully in cheesecloth, little mummy,
And buried you in the back yard,
Marking the site, never, with a cross, theless.

poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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