Poem from:

The San Simeon Zebras by C.J. Sage

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A Natural History Told while Termites Gnawed the Joists of the Museum

Sage, C.J.

In the jungle no one

died in a jar.

Names hitchhiked

on night tricks,

promiscuous flits

refusing all flesh.

Cracks in specifics,

in the jungle eggs

hatched into mouthparts,

an unlikely refuge.

I tell people:  stop eating.

This is part true.

The mouth balks

a haven.  In a madhouse,

the jungle roll-calls.

What was the jungle like

before piranhas

in the jungle.

Rubber boots sound nice

when in another genre.

The hard cone

of the jungle felt dirty

and wet-rag warm.

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