Stella Wulf lives in South West France and is currently studying towards an MA in Creative Writing with Lancaster University. Her work has been widely published and has appeared in several anthologies including The Very Best of 52, three drops from a cauldron, and the Clear Poetry Anthology. She is also an artist and her work can be seen on her website: stellawulf.com
I know you, Pavo Cristatus,
I hefted you, ovoid in my palm,
pondered nature’s harsh contingency,
almost lobbed you – then,
from star struck shell, life flickered
and I broke you, cold
from your natal cell.
I know your stuttered strut,
your pose, lopsided
your curled-back toes,
gripped too long in the albumen.
I foraged – brought you Mantis,
prayed you’d live.
I know your spangled mantle,
saw the sapphire flow
wash slow from tufted crest,
suffusing breast and back.
When you fanned the flames
of your comet train, I watched,
mesmerised by a thousand eyes.
I know the susurration
of coverts, the dry skitter of quills,
the keen, raspy exhalation
that signals copulation.
I felt the force of your first sonic call,
and at night in your cedar roost, up high,
I know the nature of your moonstruck cry.