Unforgiven

I have been chosen head keeper
of a zoo
exotic beasts of every kind
even those inaccessible to imagination
lie waiting to uplift,
inspire.

but the cages
are bare steel and concrete
no plants, dead trees
cut-rate dollar-store dog kibble
rattles in the bottom
of neglected dishes.
water breeds nothing
but mosquitoes.
waste and garbage
form magistrates
and city-states:
The Filth Empire of the Lion's Den
The High Food Court at Wrapper Mountain
The Rat Parliament at Abandoned Hot Dog Stand
and of course
The Compost Processing Outposts in every exhibit.

some of the beasts
have been sold
to trophy-hunter's middle-men
to decorate rich men's offices.
the donation box
contains generous gifts
of dust and air.

untended,
misused,
abandoned,
unmourned,
this new charge of mine.
with all the wonders herein,
how could those who wrought this place
fail to nurture its potential?
they imagined it
they created it, birthed it ...
how could they fail so badly to raise it?

any lift in volume
is a scream.
any lifted hand
is a threat.
any critique
is a condemnation.

forlorn bones
have finally retreated
beneath healthy flesh
the animals are being fed and cared-for
the damage is not permanent;
someday this place
(which is him)
will thrive.

but
you are not forgiven
for what you've done
or what you failed to do.