I remember the chickens we killed for the wedding,
and the ladybugs, motionless, on green leaves after the rain.
I remember the goat slain in the bathroom,
and the partridge you shot and the rabbit we ate.
There was the scorpion we captured and hung from a string,
the bandicoot you chased with a scythe,
the rooster call that rose above the city roar,
the cobra that swayed to the vegetable man's pipe,
the shy lizards that ran across walls while fancy guests dined,
the black crows that held court on electrical lines.
I remember the bony cows and the lame dogs
the monkeys on the hoods of cars.
I didn’t know it was poverty or politics.
I didn’t know it was unhygienic.
Then, it was safe for life to brim
and for the unfenced wilderness to spill onto naked streets.
