Kevin Stoy


To hear a lyrebird sing, you need
to convince the enemy of music.  In captivity,

more is known about song than the kind
of sound the reticent mimic.

A dense vegetation must lead to prey and
a fort full of the bird’s elegant calls.

Prove something.  Meaning ought not
be thrushes in motion.  Carry a bird’s voice

through a whole set of troops and it works
to keep the soldiers’ anger still.  Turns out

mimicry might exist only to distract the nightingale
of a previous poetry.  Mentioned in the course

on nice ideas, the Sturnus Vulgaris doesn’t respond.
The species is common among long distances

in the intriguing science of eccentric to thin.  To
listen out in the fields.  Enjoy the wild behavior

of a single starling’s curious song.

Kevin Stoy currently resides in Fairfax, Virginia, where he's in his second year of work in the MFA program at George Mason University. His poems have been published in the SNReview and are forthcoming in Triplopia and Evening of Odds.

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