The Zoo Keepers

Speculative Fiction in Poetic Form. For the March Challenge: D. Wallace Peach/Myths of the Mirror


pixabay image by Natan Vance

The frequent whip of that smooth alley
Admitting to the cobwebs of sand foaming
Beneath my feet like the wildness
In the bubbles that she skimmed
From the boiling pot of my lungs
Until I could only breathe her
Breathe her
Breathe her
The machine then cast me from my
Garden of fully-grown dreams into the screaming
Moment just before puberty
Committing me to limp across
That same bridge toward the sun-moon
The same sun-moon
Always that sun-moon
With its damaged rings
But it doesn’t matter
I am blind to its horrid beauty
Because of its beautiful horrors
Madly I drive my feet forward
Sniffing the air
Always sniffing
Sniffing
Every second expecting
The Zookeepers to find me
They never find me
“Throw back your head and howl!”
Howl at what? I ask.
Howl at what?

Z

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25 thoughts on “The Zoo Keepers

  1. Wow! The wild child made wild… the Zookeepers… the repetition that becomes almost hypnotic. You have captured the tone of speculative dark; the dystopian hum in poetic form. Awesome, Z!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Shiver inducing writing. Also, you’re very much not alone in your insecurity. I don’t think anyone can say they’ve never had a moment where they write something and go ‘well that is never seeing the light of day’.

    Liked by 1 person

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