Funeral Bracing

I watch a bird in a bamboo cage regurgitate a seed.
The bird watches me pare my fingernails.
The bird and I share the air reeking of bacon grease
in the kitchen of a house my parents bought to be their last.

The bird swings on a hickory trapeze.
I remember a circus elephant bowed one-legged
on a stool in a ring beside caged lions and tigers
while a tightrope walker toasted the audience
from the highwire with a champagne bottle in one hand
an oversized glass in the other.

I whistle to coax a song from the bird.
It shivers, tucks its wings down pebbly legs
and tweets Für Elise as played on a viola.
At last I'm ready to attend my father's funeral.