The Scarlet Ibis
Native to rubber
plantations.
Its wingspan, ten feet.
I judge it
from tail
to beak
a yawning meter
of solid appetite.
Its name derived
from the Persian
for “lavish depiction
of sex and deceit,”
heavy and surreal
in flight,
fawning
over pics of starlets
in dishabille,
desirous
of the flashbulb’s light,
a rabid fan of TMZ.
This bird’s
a fisher
after page-views:
The sweetest nectar
of nipple slips
and baby bumps.
If it can’t have
celebrity—
the edenic light
of being news—
it will take
the trending specter
of tinseltown
divorces,
the social threshing
that gossip
forces.
Flush-cheeked
and feverish
in its treetop home,
refreshing
for the umpteenth
time the page,
it weeps
false tears (like
a crocodile),
and sublimates
its rage.
| Maureen Thorson |
|
levelheaded: The Scarlet Ibis
Maureen Thorson’s “The Scarlet Ibis” begins with laying out encyclopedic facts about a large wading bird. In line four, the speakers says “I judge it” and goes on to describe the colorful bird colorfully as “a yawning meter / of solid appetite.” This phrase, “I judge it,” instructs us that the poem is not merely a description of a particular type of bird, but also a judgement of the type of person that bird is compared to—the scantily clad “desirous / of the flashbulb’s light, / a rabid fan of TMZ.”
Thorson’s clever word choices (fawning, rabid, nectar, edenic) allow her to describe people in terms that also can connote birds. When Thorson writes “This bird’s / a fisher” she’s also saying This type of woman is fishing for “page-views.” At other times, she is even more explicit in making her comparison. While “[t]he sweetest nectar” can apply to birds or people “nipple slips / and baby bumps” are terms that are pretty exclusive to our human-crafted tabloids.
That humans distort the simple, natural, beautiful world in their quest for “celebrity” seems central to Thorson’s piece. Adam and Eve became “news” not for blending into the background. They shone in the “edenic light” because of their spectacle. Like the bird whose name “‘derived / from the Persian / for ‘lavish depiction / of sex and deceit,’” people today build on their earliest ancestors’ legacy with their quest for fame.
By the poem’s end, accurately describing the literal scarlet ibis is not nearly as important as capturing the nature of the fame obsessed human. “[T]rending” and “tinseltown / divorces” are modern day human concerns, and birds aren’t even capable of “refreshing / for the umpteenth / time the page.” The inverted syntax here places particular weight on the word “time”—a man-made construct to which, in many ways, we alone are beholden to.
It’s hard to guess what causes the “rage” that some people attempt to distract themselves from with “false tears,” in large part because the possibilities are so many. Maybe we’re so pissed because time is against us. Maybe the anger stems from the fact that others are rich and beautiful, that someone else is getting all the attention. Maybe we’re mad because Adam and Eve doomed us from the outset, or because we know deep down that the quest for fame is a shallow one. Seeking fame turns our beautiful bird-like spirits ugly as tears on a crocodile.
– The Editors
