Pigeons and Peacocks
by Theodora Goss

I dreamed of a strange bird
that looked like a pigeon, white and brown,
but toward the back it had some feathers
that were blue and green, iridescent,
and its tail had the telltale eyes
of a peacock.

Was it a pigeon turning into a peacock?
A peacock who had somehow disguised itself
as a pigeon, but forgotten to hide its tail feathers?
Was it a secret agent, a peacock in MI5?
Or maybe a thief, some sort of international
criminal, a peacock wanted by Interpol? Or maybe
a peacock in a witness protection program?

Alternatively, was it a pigeon
who had decided it wasn’t going to be limited
by its identity as an ordinary pigeon
strutting around the streets of Budapest?
A pigeon with a vision board, who set intentions
and was determined to live its best life?
A pigeon with a story to tell.

Or was the dream somehow a commentary
on human existence, that we are all
pigeons and peacocks, not always in equal measure,
sometimes looking ordinary and innocent
from the front, but trailing a kind of feathered glory
behind us?

(The image is a painting by by Pieter Casteels III.)