The first organizer was Noah. Tied to a boat
he counted giraffes on all ten fingers, mumbling
as he went, here Dolly, HERE Angus, no not like that—
chocolate-like he tempered himself to the toes.
Did the predators forget their evolution? Pocket eyes
staring out of lacy skulls, daggering antelopes
like hot summer cantaloupe. A gosling gets a splinter
do the hyenas go mad with the scent of carnage?
Oh Noah. I feel ya.
How to keep the plucky chickens and the white rabbits
nimble-footed and sure of themselves, how to encourage
gazelles to daily run ark-perimeter laps so as not to become dolorous.
Can you imagine! Without Noah’s organization, the animals
would’ve eaten themselves silly after their own salvation.