An owl hang-gliding in suspended flight,
An arrowheaded fox in mock attack
Beneath a northern pike
Whose pinking shears are open for a fight
That never comes, a lynx’s ears pinned back
For some decisive strike. . . .

No dove is ever featured in a heap,
No walleye belly up. This art contrives,
Although the eyes are glass,
To reawaken from their real sleep
Breakneck ferocity when the falcon dives,
Grace in the largemouth bass,

And overlooks their fixed, affected stare.
A more organic form would represent
No animal at all,
Its lifetime having melted into air,
But in a fairer attitude present
An empty pedestal.