LAURA VAN PROOYEN

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.  

   Contributor’s notes
   An Uncertain Sky Makes Her Wary of Stillness

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