75.

A hush coats the apartment after the parrot speaks. Two whole floors have gathered to bear witness to its final thoughts, words to be forever enshrined upon the building’s throw pillows and the lips of its latchkey kids. See the gypsy girl laugh at the man’s muted pleas to return his voice, her promise of their transmutation, their power, to be lost on the wings of an unseen bird, brief and meaningless as the wind. The cockatoo’s coda — “Alas, that here ends my story of silence” — survives its Internet upload, infects the world’s many screens, then nothing.

grh

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s