The Zoo Poem by M R Vishnuprasad

The Zoo



House is near to the zoo,
a hired killer
A bird lover.
Collecting the feathers
makes albums.

In the holidays
goes alone to the deep forest
in the outskirts of the city.
Those times I don’t carry
gun and knife.
Without any weapons
when I walk
tigers and snakes
comes in search of me.

One of these days
before killing one person,
he told me: ”You smell of tigers.”
It’s true.
In my lap tigers have slept.
Caressing their necks,
feeling their teeth
carved with fifty one alphabets
is my hobby.

When kissing a tiger
the sigh of love,
no other kiss have given me.

The snakes waking up from the sleep
between the trees feeding on the sunlight
wind around the legs
reminding the cold bodies
of the murdered ones.
Poison,
Pillow,
Knife,
Rope,
Gun,
used all of them to murder.
I have been waiting for a long time
to strike and kill a man
like you kill a reptile.

Touching all the organs
when the snakes embrace,
I collect feathers
from dried leaves.
On a regular basis
I extract the blood
of the murdered one with a syringe
and fills it in a bottle.
The dead one’s blood is too sticky.

In the free nights,
I who smell of tiger
wearing a snake around my neck
keeps pasting the feathers
in the album with sticky blood.

The ambition in life
is nothing else.
But to sneak into the zoo
on a full moon night
and free all caged beings.
Want to die drowning
in their smells
and rise in the deep forest
in the city outskirts
with an album of feathers.

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