Peacock

Do not strutVainglorious chimney
sweepDo not paradeYour quiver of
gaudy brushesI will not
browseYour tattered waresNor
standTransfixed as your cooing honeymilk
patterDrips in waxy stripsDown
your sleek marine neckClose your
fanArch dandyRetreat behind your
brocaded screenLet concubines lick
cleanYour powdered silken
cheeksI see
throughThe clouded glass of your
charade.