Survival

ALBERT GOLDBARTH

SURVIVAL

This is the church of giraffes

dying on their knees, who cannot cry out

the length of their pain but must

topple silently, silently

as haunches unconnected to throats

attract carnivores, voiceless as offal.

This is the word they would say,

that rabbits begin with soft twitching

lips ceaselessly, but never finish

until their deaths; when the life

long stuttering of fragile and hesitant

f's fulfills itself, once, unheard.

This is where we will marry, here

where the teat of the female buffalo hangs

its appendix weight; a hide-away

bed, safe in the walls, where I can love you

finally. Easily hovering overhead, cherubim

cannot appreciate the floorbound blessings

penguins offer: pumping, pumping vestigial

gestures for centuries, their strain inspires

one sublime squawk, long extinct from our language,

and keeps them warm till morning.