After My Daughters Tell Me They Are Learning How to Identify Animals at School
by M. Cynthia Cheung
We arrive late to the zoo—most of the inhabitants
are drowsy, heads tucked under wings and tails.
I buy each girl a popcorn and a slushy, and we head over
to the big cats. The lions take us in, then close
their eyes. Their outlines are as familiar as children’s
book illustrations. Can we go to the gift shop now?
my girls ask. But I insist we see
a few more. The next exhibit seems empty
at first. Then a curious dark
shape emerges from the shade, a massive,
stiff mane standing along its spine.
The boy next to us says, It doesn’t even look
like a proper elephant.
The animal fixes its eyes on us, its heavy pelt
twitching. Unexpectedly its mouth opens in a high-
pitched call, as if drawing upon something hidden--
the sound strips the air of all words.
Mountains rise before us.
For a moment, my girls squeeze their eyes shut. Now
can we go?
I look over my shoulder—the strange gloss
of the creature’s hindquarters
vanishes into the grass.
Listen to the poem here.
are drowsy, heads tucked under wings and tails.
I buy each girl a popcorn and a slushy, and we head over
to the big cats. The lions take us in, then close
their eyes. Their outlines are as familiar as children’s
book illustrations. Can we go to the gift shop now?
my girls ask. But I insist we see
a few more. The next exhibit seems empty
at first. Then a curious dark
shape emerges from the shade, a massive,
stiff mane standing along its spine.
The boy next to us says, It doesn’t even look
like a proper elephant.
The animal fixes its eyes on us, its heavy pelt
twitching. Unexpectedly its mouth opens in a high-
pitched call, as if drawing upon something hidden--
the sound strips the air of all words.
Mountains rise before us.
For a moment, my girls squeeze their eyes shut. Now
can we go?
I look over my shoulder—the strange gloss
of the creature’s hindquarters
vanishes into the grass.
Listen to the poem here.
 | M. Cynthia Cheung is a physician whose poems can be found in The Baltimore Review, Pleiades, RHINO, swamp pink, SWWIMEveryday, Tupelo Quarterly and others. She serves as a judge for Baylor College of Medicine’s annual Michael E. DeBakey Medical Student Poetry Awards. Find out more at www.mcynthiacheung.com. |