Two Poems by Betsy Mars

Argyle

Unpacking the box
a year after death
I find the knitting
pattern, the socks
themselves,
gone

*

Ars Parrotica

We squawk, beg for crackers, display
our plumage to the world, soil
the newspaper in the bottom of our cage,
spit out shells, swallow the seed;
if free, we splat on your head.
We’re a nuisance, listening in,
mimicking what we hear,
making what passes for conversation
through the bars of our imprisonment.
We shake a feather, claw. Toothless,
our talons cling to any extended branch.
When we escape we propagate, flock
to the treetops, confuse the populace,
so used to the dismal gray of pigeon frocks.

*

Betsy Mars is a prize-winning poet, photographer, and assistant editor at Gyroscope Review. Her poetry has been published in numerous journals and anthologies. Recent poems can be found in Minyan, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Sheila-Na-Gig, and Autumn Sky Poetry Daily. Her photos have appeared online and in print, including one which served as the Rattle Ekphrastic Challenge prompt in 2019. She has two books, Alinea, and her most recent, co-written with Alan Walowitz, In the Muddle of the Night. In addition, she also frequently collaborates with San Diego artist Judith Christensen, most recently on an installation entitled “Mapping Our Future Selves.”