I remember the beating of wings ……………and his onrush …………………………unruly wind ………………………………………straight for my face.
……………That’s all. Not whether …………………………he was turquoise or green, ………………………………………not his sleek cocked head, ……………………………………………………or his twitterings,
………………………………………just how I would screech …………………………and flinch, forseeing talons ………………………………………caught in my hair ……………………………………………………or scratching out my eyes.
Only that ……………and then the morning …………………………when over cereal she said– ………………………………………gently as if the news ……………………………………………………might make me sad– ………………………………………she’d found Pretty Boy that morning …………………………on the floor of his cage
………………………………………perfectly still
……………and the certainty: …………………………that somehow by not loving ………………………………………by not even liking, ……………………………………………………by being jealous of ………………………………………a pet so small, ……………………………………………………I’d wished him gone …………………………………………………………………and he’d obeyed.