Borges dreamt of panthers circling
In half-domes cut above the equator
Elsewhere he mentions jaguars
Perhaps am I mixing up animals with furs
Panthers have long left these rooms
With their old habits of grace
And a couple of cubs in their trace
They roam freely in vulnerable cities
That’s wonderful my dear
The other kind of wonderful
For those who kneel at their faces
And eye to eye in dreaming terms
They who extend an open hand
Wardens are the dead men say
Do not feed the animals nor them
There is another side to the story
And surely you are joking for not telling
Remember how you looked for
Company places too many
Blame the zoo for solid bars
Blame it for the expected food
But praise it for the opportunities
Panthers are back in your life
They wear different skins
Changed names and disguise
That’s wonderful
The other kind of wonderful
Wardens are the men with the keys
Walking home free at the end of the days.
Image credit : Banksy, the Girl with a Pearl Ear Drum
Frédéric Benqué 