Peahen, your inventive design upsets
Reasoning.
The sensors in your crest
are acoustic eyes, meshed
like the southern Parkes Observatory.
Fluttering.
Your revelation crest
pulls in quakes of sound, fleshed.
So, you feel the vibrations of your mate.
The rattling
frequency of your head
matches the male’s tail. Fret
and be sympathetic to your peacock.
He’s singing.
His counter-siren head
parades a phoney breadth.
Peacock, be kind (if you can). Your desire
is blubber.
The fondness of peafowl
gasps on a bright stage; gown
of gold and blue. Oh, the embroidery!
Feathery
half of your pair peafowl
and your fanning tail. Mouth
of your affection. Please, don’t let her down
by playing
Stop yourself this season.
Make your stones windbeaten
as you suppress and confess all your sins.
The cheating
can run off this season.
Try new party pieces.
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