[for William Henry Hudson]

English is the parrot’s third language. In each
she has stopped asking why, the jungle receding
along with the faces of her first captors. Instead
of hola! she says hello! and is rewarded with sausage,
hard on her heart, but then everything has been.
Her new owners assume her irascibility a hallmark
of her species. Really she’s struggling to link signifier
with signified, pretty girl with pajarita linda,
this chairback with that first tree branch
over the river. By the time the human with the intense
gaze arrives, she’s not in the mood to perform.
De dónde eres? he whispers. Startled, she forgets
to bite. He lifts her to his shoulder and lets her lean
against his ear. Soy de...she begins but cannot
continue. Yo, tambien, he croons, his finger
tender down the length of her feathers. Months later
he learns of her premature death. Too much pork,
too much winter. He lets the letter flutter
over the Thames, echoing the shush of the pampas.

Local explorer Devon Balwit walks in all weather. Her most recent collections are We Are Procession, Seismograph [Nixes Mate Books, 2017], Dog-Walking in the Shadow of Pyongyang [Nixes Mate Books, 2021] and Spirit Spout [Nixes Mate Books, 2023]. For more, visit: https://pelapdx.wixsite.com/devonbalwitpoet