They cannot run towards me, or away:
They can only flutter awhile
At the steel bars, then drop out of view.
So I distribute glimmers of my smile
To all three bird-cage rows and say
‘I want to write a poem about you’
The parrots hop and jibber ‘you! blue! clue!’
The macaws cackle their disdain;
The peacock preens under the eagle’s glare,
But it is the fat vulture’s dread dank stare
That claws deepest into my brain.
‘Liar. You would write through us about you.’