By J.J. Tindall
Zoo of Shadows
This is a memorial garden,
an Eden of dreams,
free to the public,
a regeneration of a 19th century
graveyard.
Little black holes linger
amidst the sculpted landscapes,
shade for scorpions.
They lengthen as the sun wanes.
The lion was my ambition:
not unrealized, but passed.
The seal was my agility,
zipping elegantly against the current.
The tortoise was my endurance:
thick, slow, sure
The giraffe was my arrogance:
above and aloof.
The monkeys were my laughter
and the toucans my sighs.
These were by no means stunted lives.
They merely kow-towed appropriately
to the tyrant Time.
They took the form of being
and have left a supple imprint,
veering silently across the gristle
and stone
as long as there is light.
The elephant, my ego, thrives.
Solid, salient, the sole survivor,
Lord of Scorpions.
The elephant yet weeps
and bleats
but he is happy.
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J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
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More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* Kindled Tindall: The Novel
Posted on June 24, 2012