By Laura Madeline Wiseman
Long ago we quit offering our tails
like the others—prairie chicken, peacock—
though we gasp when they tremble
to beckon a mate. Even the wild turkey
that once climbed our neighbor’s roof
to trumpet from the long, dark curve
of his throat, shook and spread out
the heft of his beauty with fierce joy.
There is more to love in our backsides,
yet sometimes while driving the car
we can remember what it was like
to be one of them, our bright glory there
in the night air for a moment, mooning,
and then disappearing into a backseat—
an invitation, a dark forest, a wonder.
Copyright 2014 Wiseman
Laura Madeline Wiseman has a doctorate from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln where she teaches English and creative writing. She is the author of seven collections of poetry, including Sprung (San Francisco Bay Press, 2012) and Unclose the Door (Gold Quoin Press, 2012). She is also the editor of Women Write Resistance: Poets Resist Gender Violence (Hyacinth Girl Press, 2013). Her writings have appeared in Prairie Schooner, Margie, Arts & Letters, Poet Lore, and Feminist Studies. She has received awards from the Academy of American Poets and Mari Sandoz/Prairie Schooner, and grants from the Center for the Great Plains Studies and the Wurlitzer Foundation. www.lauramadelinewiseman.com
All work by Laura Madeline Wiseman
