December 2008

Tainted Stripes

The zebras have left Africa,

Traveled far from its savannas and its sun-beat bushes

To join the world of the dead.

Hooves squelch,

The ground sucking them in with tongues of mud.

It stains the white fur between jagged bolts of black

And sinks deep,

Deep into their flesh to stain their bones as well.

They scream and bray,

Flail and struggle,

Screech and neigh

As they fight the Earth.

Sweet cadavers reach upward from beneath the mud

And stroke their struggling flanks.

You can see the fear embossed in their bulging eyes,

Black eyes bulging as the illusion begins:

Freeze!

Frozen!

Frozen in time, this world of the dead has stopped counting bodies.

Zebras stand stone-still,

Stiff in rigor mortis.

Lips pulled back, flat teeth bared,

Eyes to the sky, and ears pinned down,

They may remain frozen in flight for eternity.

…

Or just until their stripes begin to shed.

It’s already begun.

The black swirls inward,

The white twists within,

Writhing tight.

And like tainted apple skins, they peel downward in spirals.

Black peels away,

White peels away,

Until all that’s left is the purity of flesh.