Wednesday, 29 February 2012

The Gorilla

She watches children
Lean from their mother's arms
Pointing at her,
Their eyes shining.

On a loft of mortar and bricks
Her own little one
Sleeps curled up
 in a tyre.

She gazes out
beyond the crowd.
Through the bars
Into the mist
of the forest.

Where once she hung from
her mother's breast.
Then she cracked open nuts.
Sucked on flowers.

How will she explain to her little one?
The smell of mist
The taste of raindrops
The feel of wet grass

Beyond this iron cage?

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