Peacock Feathers Poem by gershon hepner

Bars that keep a felon in,
keratin and melanin
trap the colors on the tail
that a peacock loves to flail.
Down each feather lie small barbs,
coloring their feathered garbs
in arrays of tiny barbules,
technicolored like school carpools
mums and dads all love to share
when economy is fair––
when it sadly isn’t thus,
there’s a yellow motorbus.

On a human there’s no feather––
humans flout their sex with leather,
macho jackets on the bikers,
worn by men and many dykers
drawing girls who like their miens
like bright feathers drawing peahens,
while the women wearing mini-
skirts attract the men who’re sinny.
Leather can arouse all nerds
like the feathers on the birds,
helping species to survive,
nights like Saturday alive.