Watching the Pelican Die

Abstract

Watching the Pelican Die Maria Mazziotti Gillan (bio) On TV, I watch the pelican with its mouth wide open,its wings and body coated with oil. Is it screaming? I do nothear the sound and since this is a photograph, I don't know ifit was caught in that mouth-stretched howl when it died or is ithowling in recognition that it cannot survive the thick coatof oil that bears it down. The ladies who take care of you when I'm gone tell me youare having trouble. His hands, they say, his hands. When Icome home, I see that your hands have turned black at thetips and when I get closer, I see that the ends of your fingershave been eaten away. I watch the dead bird in the Gulffloating on top of the water, its legs stiff and straight in the air,its body drained of all motion, all light. The next day I take you to the doctor and he sends you toanother doctor who suggests soaking your hands in Ivorysoap and water. A few days later he tells us he will have tooperate to remove the gangrenous flesh. The announcer on CNN says BP didn't want thephotographer to take pictures of the dying birdscovered as they are with the black slick of oil.They were hoping, he says, that the birds would sinkand the evidence would be swallowed by the ocean. In the late afternoon, I hear my daughter cry out. I rush to seewhat has happened, and you are stretched out on the bed,your body so thin you look like a small boy, your eyes closed.You do not move. I call 911 and the ambulance takes you tothe hospital. Jennifer rides in the ambulance with you.I drive my car. [End Page 57] BP is trying to put a cap on the spewing oil rig; the CEOkeeps saying, it's no problem. Clumps of oil wash ashoreand float on the surface of the water. The beach is litteredwith dead fish and birds. At the hospital, they want to know whether we wantextraordinary measures. No, I say. He has a living will. Doyou want a stomach tube? No, I say, no tube. They attach asaline drip and shoot antibiotics into it. They take x-rays.Your eyes are cloudy and confused. We hover around whilethey admit you. You have forgotten how to speak. Mostlyyou lie in the bed, staring into a spaceabove our heads. In my mind I see that screaming bird, its mouth wide open, apicture of torment and despair. I reach out to hold your hand, stroke your forehead. Dennis, Icall out, Dennis. You do not hear. The doctor comes in tosee you. Well, he said, he should have been dead five years ago.What did you expect? You shouldn't have taken suchgood care of him. We did everything we could the BP president says, lookingdirectly at the camera. It's not such a calamity, the governorof Louisiana says, it's the President's fault. We don't need tostop deep water drilling. Our economy will collapse if we do.We stand around your hospital bed. My brother comes inand says we'll try a stronger antibiotic. It's bad, he says, buthe waits until we are in the hall to tell me. In a couple of daysyou are stronger, but when you say something, you can onlywhisper, a whisper so soft we cannot understand. The social worker says, you should put him in a nursinghome. My brother says, you kept him home all this time. Ifhe gets a little stronger, we'll let him go home and he'll bearound the things he knows. [End Page 58] I love you, I whisper in your ear. You turn toward me but I amuncertain if you know who I am. The doctor comes in andsays he's not going to make it. The social workeradmonishes us with her...