He calls me an ungrateful bitch, the parrot escapes its cage, perches on the tap of the kitchen sink, its beak slightly open and the dark little tongue showing.
The argument escalates while the neighbour practises her scales on the piano. My husband and I stare at each other, me in disbelief, he with hatred. Behind him is the cage with its door open, a slice of days-old apple wedged in the corner, all pecked out of its mind.
There’s nothing I can do, the parrot repeats, nothing, nothing. Empty phrases it has learned from my husband, now parroted on loop while I toss the seed mix, contempt-confetti, make my way to the door and quietly, firmly close it behind me.
Nora Nadjarian is a poet and writer from Cyprus. Her work has been included in international journals and anthologies and her poetry collection Iktsuarpok was recently published by Broken Sleep Books.
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