wild thing desirée

calm on my knee

this female psittacine

two of her toes pointing forward

two backwards

her four-chambered heart beats slowly

blue cheek and chin feathers fall

smooth from their delicate hooks

descended from theropod and archaeopteryx

related to crocodile

with three eyelids

a retina twice as thick as mine

an additional colour channel

that picks up the ultraviolet

to near ultraviolet range

she twists her head backwards

to access her uropygial gland

begins to preen

her three thousand feathers

rump thumb and wingpit keratin

slides through her beak

alula bastard wings

and fused pygostyle

let her whip around room

or forest

though monogamous

bonded to me and serene

there is danger in her hooked

downcurved upper mandible

smaller upcurved lower mandible

last week

just for a moment

i forgot her great need

for my full attention

forgot her lightning quick responses

when she doesn’t have it

she took a chunk out of my face

just above where

my operculum would be

if i were the wild feathered love partner

she would prefer

the neophobic pscittacine

the parrot prefers a peony to any other blossom

          buries her beak into its         heart     pulls off a few petals

relapses into            boredom

avian possessive compulsive she has         taken over the        

          bathroom                made over the          space behind the

toilet according to    her own         specifications

possessions:            three ragged facecloths       the remains

of an empty paper roll         torn-off shreds of cardboard

an empty       bubble              bath          bottle           three balls one with a bell in it

she asserts ownership over            the shower curtain rod        marches the edges

          of the bathtub                   shoulders shampoo containers and            soap

off its edge    enjoys the    clunk            as they land 

within her boundaries she has strict                    laws             woe              betide

anyone who             turns on a      water tap       no she does not want to play with you

   and nothing is interesting to her for more than           a moment or            two  

tiny     this tyrant yet easily                                                 frightened

          her wastebasket discovered empty  a       new blue                 bathmat    

she scurries to her lair behind the             toilet            where she

takes out her           frustration on the baseboard                    slivers it with her beak

          i offer a rose            she prefers to pick the petals off peonies to be bored by

peonies       insists on choosing her own boredoms              in her        unchosen life

sacrament

if she is on my knee

and i close my eyes

she remains still for a few moments

considering

i feel her feet tentative on my thigh

then she walks up to my folded hands

          slow as a cloistered nun in meditation

lays the side of her beak against my skin

it is warm

          its touch soft as the breath of a holy ghost

bristled hairs above her beak

bless my knuckle like gentle oiled thumb

          of priest at font

should this be the day

my eyes do not open again

she will sit there doing that

          performing the rite

          in silent vigil