Possession In The Key of Irony

He locks his golden canary
in a gilded cage
and listens to her silence.

In the beginning she fluttered
against the gilded spokes,
searching for the door.

Now she often stands on the floor
with her head tucked
under a folded wing.

Sometimes she searches for space
until he bats her away
from the golden spokes.

He knows she can't escape.
He only does it
to remind her of her place.

He sends her crimson roses,
crushing the fragrant petals
to soothe her bruises.

His songless canary fills his lonely space
while he prosecutes child abusers.

Love, Jody

Printed in
Iowa Poetry Association