Parsley

Parsley

By Rita Dove

1. The Cane Fields

There is a parrot imitating spring
in the palace, its feathers parsley green.
Out of the swamp the cane appears
to haunt us, and we cut it down. El General
searches for a word; he is all the world
there is. Like a parrot imitating spring,
we lie down screaming as rain punches through
and we come up green. We cannot speak an R—
out of the swamp, the cane appears

and then the mountain we call in whispers Katalina.
The children gnaw their teeth to arrowheads.
There is a parrot imitating spring.

El General has found his word: perejil. Who says it, lives. He laughs, teeth shining
out of the swamp. The cane appears

in our dreams, lashed by wind and streaming.
And we lie down. For every drop of blood
there is a parrot imitating spring.
Out of the swamp the cane appears.

2. The Palace

The word the general’s chosen is parsley.
It is fall, when thoughts turn
to love and death; the general thinks
of his mother, how she died in the fall
and he planted her walking cane at the grave
and it flowered, each spring stolidly forming
four‑star blossoms. The general

pulls on his boots, he stomps to
her room in the palace, the one without
curtains, the one with a parrot
in a brass ring. As he paces he wonders
Who can I kill today. And for a moment
the little knot of screams
is still. The parrot, who has traveled

all the way from Australia in an ivory
cage, is, coy as a widow, practising
spring. Ever since the morning
his mother collapsed in the kitchen
while baking skull‑shaped candies
for the Day of the Dead, the general
has hated sweets. He orders pastries
brought up for the bird; they arrive

dusted with sugar on a bed of lace.
The knot in his throat starts to twitch;
he sees his boots the first day in battle
splashed with mud and urine
as a soldier falls at his feet amazed—
how stupid he looked!— at the sound
of artillery. I never thought it would sing the soldier said, and died. Now

the general sees the fields of sugar
cane, lashed by rain and streaming.
He sees his mother’s smile, the teeth
gnawed to arrowheads. He hears
the Haitians sing without R’s
as they swing the great machetes:
Katalina, they sing, Katalina,

mi madle, mi amol en muelte. God knows
his mother was no stupid woman; she
could roll an R like a queen. Even
a parrot can roll an R! In the bare room
the bright feathers arch in a parody
of greenery, as the last pale crumbs
disappear under the blackened tongue. Someone

calls out his name in a voice
so like his mother’s, a startled tear
splashes the tip of his right boot.
my mother, my love in death.The general remembers the tiny green sprigs
men of his village wore in their capes
to honor the birth of a son. He will
order many, this time, to be killed

for a single, beautiful word.

What the Poem Says

The poem is set against the backdrop of the 1937 massacre of Haitians in the Dominican Republic. The narrator follows a general who must pronounce the word “parsley” (Spanish perejil) to prove his identity as a Dominican and separate himself from the Haitian victims. The repeated image of a parrot that imitates spring, its feathers green like parsley, becomes a symbol for how language can mask violence or create a false sense of normalcy.

Key Literary Devices

• repetition: The refrain “there is a parrot imitating spring” appears at regular intervals. It reminds readers that the same pattern of oppression repeats itself, even as the setting shifts from swamp to palace.
• imagery: Vivid descriptions such as “feathers parsley green” and “cane lashed by rain” paint a picture that is both beautiful and brutal. The contrast between spring’s renewal and the bloodshed of the cane fields highlights the poem’s central tension.
• metaphor: The parrot is more than a bird; it stands for how language can mimic life while concealing cruelty. The “little knot of screams” turns sound into a tangible, tangled object that the general cannot untie.
• allusion: References to the Day of the Dead and Haitian chants root the poem in specific cultural memories, giving weight to the general’s recollections.
• personification: The cane “appears to haunt us” gives the plant a living presence that follows the characters through their actions, suggesting that violence is not an isolated event but a persistent force.
• symbolism: Parsley itself symbolizes both identification and oppression. It is a word that separates, yet it also becomes a tool of control when spoken by the general.

How Each Part Builds the Central Message

1. The Cane Fields introduces the setting of violence and the first encounter with the word “parsley.” The swamp imagery evokes murkiness, while the parrot’s green feathers hint at false beauty. This section establishes that language can disguise brutality.
2. The Palace shifts to an interior space where the general reflects on his mother and his own power. The palace becomes a place where memory confronts present authority. Here the poem shows how the same word—parsley—can be used both as a personal reminder of loss and as a weapon of domination.
3. The repetition of the parrot refrain ties the two settings together, reminding readers that the cycle of oppression continues regardless of location or time. The refrain also acts as a chorus that invites the audience to listen to the hidden violence beneath everyday speech.
4. The final image of ordering many to be killed for a single word crystallizes the poem’s warning: language is not neutral. A single syllable can become a death sentence, and those who wield it must recognize its weight.

Why This Poem Matters

Rita Dove uses free verse to give the poem an unrestrained rhythm that mirrors the chaotic reality of the massacre. By blending personal memory with historical fact, she invites readers to consider how collective trauma is passed down through language and memory. The poem reminds us that words can be both a bridge and a barrier; they can heal or harm depending on who holds them.

Illustrative Quote

For every drop of blood
there is a parrot imitating spring.
(Line 18)

This line captures the paradox at the heart of the poem: beauty and violence coexist. The “parrot” that imitates spring represents how language can mimic life while concealing the harsh reality of bloodshed.