PEACOCKS

A tall wall keeps me from seeing next door
But I hear plenty, chiefly a peacock’s squawk,
A raucous alarm-clock starting at quarter to four,
An all-day croaking screech, designed to mock

Our genteel sensibilities. Such a sound,
Rasping, elemental, obscene, what
Impotent [pterodactyls] might have found
To chortle dirges for their extinctive lot.

That’s the sound. But to sight, a polychrome
Emperor struts and preens; his train of living
Jewels gleams and glistens. Praise becomes
His majesty. We ask to be forgiven

For questioning, in awe that truth can join
Such disparate stimuli so coarse, so fine.

(23, Jakarta, June 4, l992)

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