New and Selected Poems, 1957-2011

Scarlet the Parrot

89 SCARlET ThE PARROT Scarlet perches on the office windowsill shrieking, hollering, barking Like a dog. She knocks her mottled beak against the warehouse window And tries to open the metal hook and eye latch. There are parrot droppings on the telephone and Scarlet has eaten Part of the plastic receiver. The parrot slides like a red fireman With yellow and blue feathers up and down the cord, holding on With her beak, maneuvering gracefully with her claws. When I approach she calls, “Hello, hello . . .” Walks up my trouser leg holding on with her macaw’s beak. I feed the bird Oranges and pears, almonds and sunflower seeds. 90 I swivel my head round and round in imitation of her neck movements. “What’s happening?” she asks, and again, “What’s happening?” “Hello, cookie. Yoo-hoo . . . Can you talk, can you talk?” she asks Chewing for several minutes, finally swallowing a leather button Off my green corduroy jacket, threatening, ready to tear my ear off, Biting if I place my finger in her mouth. Her tongue is black And her beady eyes piercing like an eagle’s. She wants a response, tests my reactions. Tenderly the parrot walks up my corduroy jacket, sensually restraining her claws. I’m aroused. When a dog barks, she barks too: Rrf, rrf. Casually, a relaxed but authentic 91 Imitation. “Hello, darling,” she breathes, looking me in the eye knowing I know If it pleases her she might bite my ear off. “Yoo-hoo, yoo-hoo, now you say something,” she says. ...