|
Startled at
my kitchen sink
I look beyond the window
for the genesis
of a strident scream
a piercing
painful pitch
chilling my arms,
my calves
my chest
awakening tiny hairs
on the backside
of my neck
with thoughts of dire distress
in nature's troubled plan
of mortal combat in my garden
death suddenly ordained
with one resounding blow
or worse, rent slowly
with bloodied pecking beaks
cruel disemboweling claws
or torturing tearing teeth
when denizens disagree.
On the fence
he gives a mighty
unmockingbird
SQUAAAAAAWK
for every passing prospect
gray ladies of his feather
not his splendrous sunset aria
exalting the Divine
when no distractions vaulted from his genes
gray ladies only sundry birds.
Now his naked voice transforms
with lust
dictator instincts
sex
and chromosomes
from his nightly concert
envied by all music makers
captive Orpheus tending every note
to this graceless
rasping
desperate
one-note plea.
He runs, a
speedy sideways gallop on the fence
then spreading wings and tail so wide
the feathers part to mark
wet spots
roughed quills
uncomely spaces
moist tufted barbs and fringe
splotched stains
where splendid bands of white once lay
but spread in passionate array
as worthy in this moment
as any peacock's plume
and in that worthiness I see
my own
wanton virtues
and wistful vices.
Then his
tail snaps shut like a Spanish fan
starts jerking
bumping
up and down
in a vulgar
humping way
with the rhythm of a dog in heat
grabbing
on a knee.
I cannot bear to see this lack of majesty
in this majestic bird
jerking
bumping
humping
most ungraciously.
Still he
excites a part of me I didn't know
yet is instantly familiar.
Reacquainting me
with my primeval genes
he takes me to a place
where I have never been
but that I recognize
and need.
And then he
gallops, prances, squaaawks
along the fence top
thUMPing,
bUMPing,
hUMPing
A galloping thUMP
bUMP hUMP
GALLOP
thUMP
hUMP
bUMP
thUMPbUMPhUMP
His thUMP
resounds
gray ladies look his way
clouds quiver in the shock waves
sparrows flinch and hide their heads
mothers shield their chicks beneath protective wings
soft juices drip between my legs.
© 2006 Patricia
Jane St. John Danko |
