I dreamt this, some of it word for word. I'm quite odd.
A trip to the zoo?
What a treat!
How 'bout you?
You can come too – stay all day.
The sun's shining,
We walk on the grey
Gravelled paths and we Keep Off The Grass
Where, last time, we heard mallards laughing.
But today there's a pall,
A bad taste in my mouth.
Bitter air going into my lungs
And the animals' eyes
Are all following me,
Open wide and alarmed
As I pass by their cages.
There are fear and betrayal
That weren't here before
In those eyes.
And there's fewer here now than there were:
Many cages are empty.
The zookeepers, why are they smiling?
Greasy faces, complacent, replete,
They are grinning and licking their lips
As the animals cringe.
The keepers are eating the beasts.
Every day they take more,
Cook them up
And then feast.
Rare creatures are going extinct
Served up rare with fine wine.
The marmosets have been reduced, clarified to their essence
and drizzled on fried polar bear.
But it takes such a lot of the things
To make so little juice, such a waste.
But the flavour's incomparable,
say the zookeepers, licking their lips.