Genre: Animals, Society, Family
Yellow Bird
by Michael M McDonald
yellow bird
was from the city
he had a beautiful white gold fleck guilded cage
his owner was a widow and she never liked the radio
so she bought yellow bird at a forty Second street pet store one day.
he was a good singer as far as canaries go.
she didn’t know why,
I guess she thought it was better than the radio and Harold Beady , who was always fighting with his wife in the flat up stairs.
she always did things impulsively. So she paid 15 dollars for yellow bird and 12 for his cage
she took him home.
“yellow bird” she smiled, searching for herself
“pretty yellow bird”.
So, yellow bird settled in and took place of the radio and was good company for the widow
He. sang all day,
Ate, and shat in his cage.
The widow would come home from work at the drycleaners
she’d tell yellow bird about how hard every day was getting.
yellow bird sang
A song that said” at least you are not in a cage singing for a living and shitting on the floor.
Yellow bird got to know the widow pretty good.
She took to drinking and would spend most of her nights down at Spencers Bar and Grill getting attention and feeling empty.
She would bring home men she didn’t care about and fuck them
On the ratty couch.
Yellow bird could hear her groaning and drinking and smell the smoking and loathing
from his head tucked one foot dowl perch.
yellow bird was an opera singer and he swore that he would never play this room again.
he stared at the shit piled on the unchanged section of the Saturday Evening
Post at the bottom of his cage.
The widow continued to fuck on the couch
Yellow bird packed a small bag, picked the lock ,
and stuck his head under, lifting the cloaked night shade
That covered his cage.
The widow was putting her pants on and her flunkie was mixing drinks.
Yellow bird flew to the open window and felt the breeze lift the yellow layer of down on his face exposing the fleece white down underneath. He really was magnificant.
Yellowbird looked back one last time as the drunken pair stumbled over each others lost souls ,
Yellow bird saw the lights of Carnegie Hall across the New York night.
Tucked a small bird over night bag in his rose beak. And lit into flight.
He soared straight down
twenty two stories,
the bag in his beak
then pulled up into a fabulous
triumphant climb to the rooftop of Carnegie Hall.
He would live out his summer on the carnagie ledge until winters grip snatched away his song.
-
* * * * *
Deadline for FREE POETRY Festival – Get your poem made into a MOVIE and seen by 1000s. Three options to submit:
http://www.wildsound.ca/poetrycontest.html
WATCH this month’s poetry readings performed by professional actors:
http://www.wildsoundfestival.com/may_2015_poetry_readings.html
WILDsound Festival 