September 2014

Black Kite, White Plastic

A new poem

by Kimiko Hahn
You might consider plastic as convenience, waste or
deferred payment

but for black kites, white plastic is crucial decor
indicating the resident a superior strategist.

Before plastic? Perhaps cloth or paper. Before that?
“Maybe brightly colored feathers of other birds,

the white wool of sheep or deer…
or perhaps the behavior evolved after

such materials became available,” offers an ornithologist.
Only the right amount of white plastic—not green or transparent—

serves as warning to those threatening foreclosure.
I reconsider our pugnacious white lawn chair in wonder.

Kimiko Hahn teaches in the MFA program in Creative Writing and Literary Translation at Queens College, CUNY, and has written nine poetry collections. Poems in both Toxic Flora and the forthcoming Brain Fever were triggered by rarefied fields of science.

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September 2014
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