I will never forgive the zebras
for the audacity of stripes
or the sound of their hooves
8,000 kilometers away, atop the dry june grass

I will never forgive them
for the cowardice of being eaten
shedding blood upon the teeth
of the powerful, when the weak would do just as well.

I will never forgive the damned Zebra
for the gutlessness of rapture
the sudden stop before heaven
and the long wait as the winter night grows cold
then colder
still.

I will never forgive them
for the orgasm of the stud
or the braying of the mare
or the want of the foal
for another summer
one more december
without my voice warning them of boomslang
of puff adder, of the sameness
of a cheetah and other cheetah
and another until it becomes clear
that all of the spots are the same
and no clause is retractable on the veldt.