The School

The anaconda was useful. The youngest

obeyed more readily and occasionally

did not return from the boiler room.

The older children paid attention

to lessons in toolmaking and chemistry.

They formed acids that scald, then used boar

bristle brushes to outline the boundaries of their lives.

Wolverines were introduced, worrying

carrion out on the playing fields. Then

jackals. We watched them seize viscera

and tug, quivering the whole of the rubbery

carcass, shredding the body into ragged skeins

as the steady rain fell. When the teacher intoned

Nature red in tooth and claw, we understood.

They were out there, weaving drunkenly

among the puddles, fur flecked with mud, our parents

waiting in the road beyond: a line of black cars, idling.