Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Serengeti Love Song (Day 357)

Girraffes can be
terribly romantic, 
intimate with 
the nuances of love. 
Until I met you,
eyelashes melting 
in the sub-Saharan rain,
I lived for years  
doubting whether 
this was true.
Yet there you were,
velvet nose
buried in sweet acacia,
ossicones gold with pollen,
the mighty thrumming
of your powerful heart 
like a distant drum,
luring me.
I longed to nuzzle 
your pale neck, 
to count the hot brown 
patches strewn across 
your hide, and sighed,
Alas.
But at this humble sound, 
your ears pricked up, 
your brown eyes softened, 
and time seemed
to trip and stumble. 
Later—with the taste
of your hot urine mingling 
with rain upon my 
bruise-tinged tongue—
we wondered at a love 
so vast that it could 
barely be contained within 
the rippling boundaries of 
our sweeping Serengeti Plain.



(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: 12019/Pixabay