In just three days, it will be Christmas. Despite the bright and cheery decorations twinkling in the streets, wreaths on doors, and Christmas trees peeking through windows, Hector doesn't feel one ... [+]
Dear owl on my keychain,
Your round tummy
is a comfort to rub.
And now the painted words "El Salvador"
are ingrained in my fingers.
Your feathers were a red brown,
fresh from the package.
Now they are gray
from pocket-affection.
I panicked
when you lost your wing.
I would have kept you
with or without it.
The glue took ages to dry,
Will it stay? Will it not?
Now one wing is off kilter
It's part of your charm.
You are the only accessory
dangling with my keys.
You are the reassuring bulge
when I sit down.
I miss my brother.
I'm glad
he sent
you.
Your round tummy
is a comfort to rub.
And now the painted words "El Salvador"
are ingrained in my fingers.
Your feathers were a red brown,
fresh from the package.
Now they are gray
from pocket-affection.
I panicked
when you lost your wing.
I would have kept you
with or without it.
The glue took ages to dry,
Will it stay? Will it not?
Now one wing is off kilter
It's part of your charm.
You are the only accessory
dangling with my keys.
You are the reassuring bulge
when I sit down.
I miss my brother.
I'm glad
he sent
you.