“The Lyrebird, Hidden. His Dance, Hidden. His Wish,” by Marianne Boruch
Poetry faculty member Marianne Boruch was recently featured in the New England Review. Read an excerpt of Boruch’s poem, “The Lyrebird, Hidden. His Dance, Hidden. His Wish,” below:
The Lyrebird, Hidden. His Dance, Hidden. His Wish
to dance, also hidden. But he will get the girl.
His featherless, out of the egg pre-wish to dance hidden too.
His hidden hidden. His pre-egg in the nest, hidden. Its yolk and white
not yet yolk and white, equally hidden.
A song the lyrebird steps to and into. By heart and habit.
But hidden. Ditto that wild footloose, the very thing
also hidden from us, the thing famous and forlorn and ecstatic.
His mimic song, an old sound effect record from the ’50s, a camera’s
click then its whirl, a braking truck, a car alarm, a chainsaw
plus twenty other birds screaming. Properly: redoes them.
His sound bites, the more worldly the better
to wow-woo her. Under trees. On the little mound he’s cleared
to dance. The way ahead circled by thorns and, higher up, stars.
Read the rest of this poem, as well as an additional poem and an interview with Boruch, at the New England Review.
