II
In the trees, in low bushes, among the reeds,
or on the ground, sits the Ibis
in its nest of sticks and stems—
its cavity lined with mud and dung.
Sits the Ibis on its eggs—
long legs folded
under loose webbed down.
Its statuesque neck reaches
the suggestion of otherworldliness,
enough to rival the god sun.
A burst of being aflame
with full life heat
underneath.
IV
Caged, the bird is narrowed with stilted
legs and feathers of faded pink,
its bowed beak
out of proportion
to the rest of its pressed body.
It longs
for a nest where the river rises
to overflow. Not here,
in the city zoo,
where only an acrylic dream exists
of coastal marshes and inland plains
drenched with bushes of the burning
color, enough to hush, to stun
an observer bathed in drifting
gardens of hyacinths
and the hung-moon sky.
As if it all could be
with a placard attached—and is—
on a wire barrier that reads
GUARA RUBRA.
But there is no bird here
of that plumage, just a creature
jabbing at some garbage.
VI
The Scarlet Ibis is eating at my heart.
In every body crevice—nests
piled deep—its sweet eggs
hatch a destiny of beauty.
Wide-eyed, blunt-beaked, nails dulled,
it cuddles into my chest.
A soft survival between us.
The Scarlet Ibis is eating at my heart.
Bird of a silent lust
keeping to itself, flying
too close
to the indifference
of the sun,
its survival melts—
grey to pink to rose to red
to bruised scarlet
to black silhouette.
The Scarlet Ibis is eating at my heart.
Against the horn and claw and talon,
the tooth and fang and poison gland,
nocturnal monkey, rodent, snake—
who long ago gave up trying to lift
its backbone from the dust—
against a thousand skittering
things on branch and humus
and heap, it stands.
The Scarlet Ibis won't stop
eating at my heart.
Last love of mine,
it clings to me
as I to it,
until all our feathers are
world plucked.
--Susan Hahn
The Scarlet Ibis
"The Scarlet Ibis is a strange, compelling, and deeply personal book of wounded humanity and inhuman natural beauty. It has a mortal anguish and a secret, riddling, Di*ckinsonian power." (Edward Hirsch)