A PAIR OF PARROTS COME IN FOR SURGERY
not subtlety, and at sundown begin moaning.
The veterinarians act more veterinarianly. It
must be internal damage. It must be the liver
rupturing. Yes, the liver. And that is how these
prognoses tend. Diagnosis being somewhat
like a supposition. The vet techs flicking the
wrists of their gloves in order to pass the time.
The parrots squawking: deeper. Deeper. Oh,
yes. The veterinarians blushing mid-incision,
slashing the liver with a scalpel until it exudes.
The parrots yowling: You have to stop when I
tell you to stop. You never listen when I tell
you it hurts. Honey, come on. It won’t happen
again. Honey, I cannot believe you right now.