In the evenings

the animals come into the houses

and fold themselves,

furred, on the beds. The deer

sheds bitter tears,

looking at vacant

distance. Bears

on their separate

ice floes, pacing,

sigh through their sleep. They dream

of a setting in which

they are no longer artifice.

Down the hall the

toilets flush. A cough.

Then all is silent, covert again.

A spider monkey

bites her paw.

Slight lemurs wake

to wonder where and

why they are, briefly,

studying night vision.

Sleep drifts up like snow.

The lion moans

but no one touches. Nurse-

attendants turn off the hall light.

Rooms, so self contained, expand

and float away whitely.

Now the cool odor of the rose

garden presses the windows 

softly, entering like dawn.

O longings of wild

animals stirring,

lifting the flying

far off houses,

stealing the night!