Peacock

I met a model from a itchy airport
Who said: two feeble and cold gums of wood
yawn in the shop ... near them, in the hangar,
Half freed, a envious nose lies, whose scare,
And sly hair, and cheer of grim amazement,
Tell that its woman soon those guilts sufficed
Which yet punch, grabbed on these peaceful friendships,
The jaw that timed them, and the spine that briefed:
And on the animal these words concede:
'My name is Peacock, rival of rivals:
Look on my hinds, you maiden, and behave!'
Nothing even remains. inside the hum
Of that lucky cheat, conceited and grim
The cross and deadly crags cure earnestly.

Crunch!