When siamang gibbons sing to hold their ground

an air-tight pouch vibrates beneath each chin.

Upright primates gather, marvel at the sound
and over-acted gestures. Rounded mouths

shape reverb like a didge’s barking din.

When siamang gibbons sing to hold their ground
one sprints a rope bridge, scales a tree, a bough

so high and so improbably thin

upright primates, three deep, marvel at the sound
and swing bravado of this acrobatic clown

and they applaud. A young boy cries, “Again!”

When siamang gibbons sing to hold their ground
the display’s recurring, urgent, loud

that in the wild occurs just daily, after dawn.

Upright primates gather, marvel at the sound		
and crowd the moat, three deep, as vain apes bound

to stand guard every hour of the sun

when siamang gibbons sing to hold their ground.

Upright primates gather, marvel at the sound.