Othello recounts his ventures to Desdemona’s father;
She fixes her gaze on her lover
in a hand-painted frame over Uncle Joe’s fireplace.
Uncle Joe cups his hands over the time-worn range
To catch the gorgeous heat as he imagines the fate of Othello
Succumbing to the lies of the egregious Iago.
Joe’s kind heart has soothed his jealousies,
Salved his fears,
Contained his hurts;
He should not mirror the fate of Othello.
Overhead, the bird sings and spits his seed from the hanging cage;
He is imprisoned, yet free to sing;
Encumbered by the wires,
While celebrating his lot.
Just like Uncle Joe.
