Poem
Polly Clark
ZOO
ZOO
ZOO
I remember kicking the bales downfrom the top of the barn, my eyes streaming.
The only creature I truly loved
hugged me, and I thought his animal warmth
was more wonderful than the touch on my cheek
from the gibbon with the circular brown eyes.
The orang-utan liked to scrub with a rag
and poke her leathery fingers through the bars,
and the elephant stood at the railings, curling
her trunk at the children,
her ears like rags, and her tusks
wrenched out; I thought
suffering must have a language, I loved
where love was wasted.
When the silly pop-eyed Père David
escaped across the zebras’ frozen savannah
he chased it and threw
his great shoulders at its hooves
bringing it down in a trembling
thump, and I thought the breaking
of freedom was beautiful, I thought
I was discovering truth
in these limbs collapsing,
antlers falling against the sky,
and the snow in shreds
like a man’s blue eye.
© 2000, Polly Clark
From: Kiss
Publisher: Bloodaxe, Tarset
Published with kind permission of the author and Bloodaxe.
From: Kiss
Publisher: Bloodaxe, Tarset
Polly Clark
(Canada, 1968)
Polly Clark was born in Toronto, Canada and brought up in Britain. She has published three poetry collections with Bloodaxe: Kiss (2000), Take Me With You (2005) and Farewell My Lovely (2009). Kiss was a Poetry Book Society Recommendation, whereas Take Me With You was a Poetry Book Society Choice and shortlisted for the TS Eliot Prize. In 1997, Clark won an Eric Gregory Award, and in 2004 the U...
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Poems of Polly Clark
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ZOO
I remember kicking the bales downfrom the top of the barn, my eyes streaming.
The only creature I truly loved
hugged me, and I thought his animal warmth
was more wonderful than the touch on my cheek
from the gibbon with the circular brown eyes.
The orang-utan liked to scrub with a rag
and poke her leathery fingers through the bars,
and the elephant stood at the railings, curling
her trunk at the children,
her ears like rags, and her tusks
wrenched out; I thought
suffering must have a language, I loved
where love was wasted.
When the silly pop-eyed Père David
escaped across the zebras’ frozen savannah
he chased it and threw
his great shoulders at its hooves
bringing it down in a trembling
thump, and I thought the breaking
of freedom was beautiful, I thought
I was discovering truth
in these limbs collapsing,
antlers falling against the sky,
and the snow in shreds
like a man’s blue eye.
From: Kiss
Published with kind permission of the author and Bloodaxe.
ZOO
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