Males Often Have Brilliant Colors

Let’s begin with the escape. She is running

a good clip when in the street she is taken

by the surprise of his bright body.

He darts from curb to curb in the absence

of traffic. She sees, though distanced

and dragging, the eyes of

his magnificent plumes.

Let’s begin again. The escape.

This week alone, there were eight.

The sheriff is embarrassed; the laundry

truck driver unnerved. But what effect

does this have on a tidy block

of bungalows, sidewalks chalked

with hopscotch. Or on the hedgerow

or boxcar concealing a man

who sniffs the air like a hound. What

does it mean to the man, himself,

who removes his shoes to feel again

the grass. Or to the woman

on the third floor watching

the news, plucking her brows

hoping for his call. What does it say

to the runner who happens

upon a peacock giving the slip

to the zoo, who does nothing but

moon over his feathers and crown.