Cuarentena
—Punta del Este, Uruguay
by Catherine Chandler
A pride of lions lounges on a street
in Africa, while I sit here inside,
hobnobbing with my little parakeet.
She chatters as I Instagram and tweet.
We seem to take the quarantine in stride.
In Wales, as gangs of goats invade a street,
I FaceTime, bake, clean, sleep and overeat.
In gazing seaward from my glorified
Bastille, I doubt my little parakeet
is happy with her cage, her millet treat
and cuttlebone. I bet she’d rather ride
the wind. As Thai macaques dash down a street
Jumanji-esque, and screaming peacocks meet
in empty squares in Ronda, Spain, I bide
my time. At least my little parakeet,
free from this government-imposed retreat,
may leave. And though I never thought that I’d
release my little lime-green parakeet,
away she flies above Artigas street!
by Catherine Chandler
A pride of lions lounges on a street
in Africa, while I sit here inside,
hobnobbing with my little parakeet.
She chatters as I Instagram and tweet.
We seem to take the quarantine in stride.
In Wales, as gangs of goats invade a street,
I FaceTime, bake, clean, sleep and overeat.
In gazing seaward from my glorified
Bastille, I doubt my little parakeet
is happy with her cage, her millet treat
and cuttlebone. I bet she’d rather ride
the wind. As Thai macaques dash down a street
Jumanji-esque, and screaming peacocks meet
in empty squares in Ronda, Spain, I bide
my time. At least my little parakeet,
free from this government-imposed retreat,
may leave. And though I never thought that I’d
release my little lime-green parakeet,
away she flies above Artigas street!
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