Goodbye (Michael)

“La luz, la luz, la luz”

squawks and   whistles

filled my cramped 2-bedroom apartment.

I ran around, following my bird up and down the halls.

Coming back from DR, 

where the lights would turn off 

sporadically, I chanted the same chant 

I used to 

    once the power box shut 

down for a few hours.

You mimicked me.

Moss green on your back and grey clouds on your belly; you’d sore through the sky above me, while my pigtails trailed behind,

two peas in a pod. We were the same age, so

            bright        and smart.

squawks  and whistles

All through the night,

    made my ears curl inward

   and my body churns outward

        under my sheets.

I’m sorry I caused this.

“No more crying, 

no more restless nights,”

my mom said before taking you

to the neighbors at night

White cage and orange beak; You sat with me curiously on my lap, 

your head tilting from side to side. 

Were you admiring me as much as I was                to you?

squeak squeak

Rats ran along the apartment, digging 

holes in our rice bags and leaving 

crap near our fridge. Trap em en la sala, 

grab the white bucket, then flush em 

down the toilet. 

“Y’know what’ll be easier?”

I raised an eyebrow.

meow meow 

A kitten, so tiny and frail, 

sitting at the bottom of a closed cereal box.

How cute, a cat that wore a tuxedo 

now sat in my lap.

meow purrr

Oh, how big you’ve grown, Diamond. 

So much energy, he loved to play.

      BANG THUMP

“DIAMOND!” 

My mom shouted in frustration 

as she ran to the hallway to find 

Michael’s cage on the floor, 

broken         in           half. 

Diamond looked pissy, with a wound on his paw.

Michael looked smug and 

victorious with white fur in his beak.

“We can’t have Michael here anymore.” 

My mom took you away, favoring the rats 

running away rather than you.

She brought your favorite food every weekend 

to my aunt's house––where she left you for a third time

––to feed only to you.

But when we’d come time and time again, 

your treats weren’t in the kennel, 

your bird mates looked full,

and the rapper was taken to the landfill long ago.

When I came to spend time with my cousins, 

I forgot about you.

Your vibrant blue feather 

that laid only under your wing 

had faded to the back of my mind.

Oh, Michael, 

how could I have 

forgotten 

about you?

“How fun would it be,” my aunt said, 

“if we mated Michael with this female quaker bird I got.”

Your black eyes that shined bright with every breath 

darkened, the top of your head barren and rough 

because your mate wouldn’t stop pecking at you. 

One egg   two egg maybe three

No chicks, just you, in a cage 

where you couldn’t fly again. 

Your mossy green resembled the changing 

of seasons, as the green stripped from the leaves 

and dullened.  

“Mommy, please, let’s take Michael home.”

What was a young girl supposed to do, 

with no money and no job? 

Should I have stolen you, 

put you in my pocket 

and taken you home? 

Should I have hidden you in a box, 

should I have let you free 

into the streets of Harlem? 

What was a young girl supposed to do 

that pleaded for her bird 

be returned home?

A few years later, you    

died

 without seeing my face again.

I love you, Michael, I miss you, and I’m sorry.

Will you let me try again and

grant me the pleasure 

of being 

my 

pet 

again?

May your spirit fly freely 

above Alexander Hamilton Playground,

and may the childrens’  playing bring you delight.