Neither a prophet nor a man possessed
with eyes of wildfire and haywire hair,
the quiet expert in the shadows there
brings nothing new to feed your chic unrest.
Beside gigantic fronds, half hidden by
the outsized sofas of the Reading Room,
a hunter stalks among the elephants.
Unlike the bright birds and the beasts of prey,
he does not swagger through the alien gloom
with tribal arrogance, gauche elegance.
His disappearance is the only hint
of the movement of the mind behind it—
A study by da Vinci, a shark’s fin
shearing the water as it zeroes in
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