lives a multi-level birdcage
that takes up an entire wall
in what the residents call
The Living Room, a funeral
parlor-like room with wingback
chairs and mint-colored couches.  

The birds in the cage are cheerful
and talkative. The nursing
assistants feed them and clean
the cage each day. It’s a legend,
these live captive birds, but we
are disappointed to learn the birds
are gone by the time our Mother
becomes a resident there.  

We visit her without the chatter
and flutter of caged
birds. Would it have made
any difference? After she dies
my sister and I learn they brought
the birds back to the nursing home
but neither of us will even pretend
to wing our way back there again.