MARGARET KING
She never liked caged animals
On the farm, dogs and cats were indoor/outdoor pets, roaming at large
And the world must have seemed bigger back then
Living on a farm on the outskirts of town
Population 112, Iowa–
A place that felt distant from every other point:
The next cornfield, farm, grain elevator, town…universe:
and the stars so vast.
"Have her show you the parakeets. They're so colorful," my son says,
when I go to visit her in assisted living.
We shuffle across the complex,
The wheels of her walker turning as slowly as her living room clock's hour hand,
And I stare at the improbable number of birds in their wicker castle
hopping to and from the same few perches all day.
She tells me she is bored, every day is the same
The cheerfulness of the place is as artificial
As the fake flowers lining the hallways,
As unnatural as garishly-colored parakeets
Plunked down in the prairie,
The seconds ticking by until
There's nothing left to do but dream of escape.
Swinging my car into the roundabout at the front door
Like I'm assisting a jailbreak,
Walker folded like a deck of cards and stashed in the trunk,
We drive an hour south to Boone,
And ride the famous scenic train she's never boarded
Despite living here for over 80 years.
As the towering trestle bridge approaches,
No guardrails on either side,
We both hold our breath, gripping the armrests,
unable to look into the distant valley below--
Two uncaged birds, both afraid of heights.
Margaret King is a tai chi and qigong teacher, poet, and short story writer who lives in Wisconsin. Her recent work has appeared in Pigeon Publishing, Highland Park Poetry, and Ice Floe Press. She is the author of the poetry collection, Isthmus. “Boone, Iowa” won second place at the 2026 Oshkosh Lakefly Contest for Wisconsin Writers in the poetry category. Follow Margaret on Instagram: @zorphie
Author Index: Margaret King
Twisted River Review ~ Issue 1: Winter 26/27