The dog has a parrot
perched
on his nose.
He watches
with a single eye,
concerned
by the beak
so close
to ocular jelly.
The dog is trying
to be a sport,
the parrot
only itself,
coy, mugging
for an unseen
master. My own devil
perches the same,
God
looking on.
Perhaps, his stay
will be as brief
as a photo op,
perhaps, a lifetime;
perhaps he will take
an eye. His talons
prick
my bridge.
I look askance.
Devon Balwit is a writer/teacher from Portland, OR. She has five chapbooks out in the world. Her poems have appeared in Rattle, The New Verse News, Poets Reading the News, Redbird Weekly Reads, Rise-Up Review, Rat’s Ass Review, The Rising Phoenix Review, Mobius, What Rough Beast, and more.
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