The Academi Cardiff International Poetry Competition

Gary Bills

Enlightenment

From the painting "An experiment on a bird
in the air pump", by Joseph Wright. 1768.

The Holy Ghost, my poor cockatoo,
Was by degrees made airless in that flask,
Until he was a white press on the glass,
Too weak to even flutter or to cry.

Father spoke of science, - "observation".
His tone was mild with us, but he was angry,
Our tears misplaced, like whispers in a church,
Our lack of faith, regrettable and base.

Indeed, new manners gathered round that table,
Where interest was a substitute for pity.
My brother’s soul was kind, but even he
Put on his Oxford face to hide his mind.

But what was there to see, apart from death?
The feathers’ light? The wizard, sure of truth?
I hated him - the magus of old nightmares,
Out of the moon-illuminated frost

To raid our parlour cage, to kill for proof,
His long grey hair unbound for that cruel show,
His spell-robe trimmed with green, like Holly-O! -
That grows where bitter druids keened the knife.

The heartbeat of a gentler God was failing
"Oh turn the tap  - please Lord, just turn the tap…"
And when the bird, our pet, did not revive,
No lips revealed the faux pas of surprise.