The Tiger
Black ripples in a sea of white;
two center-of-the-universe lapis lazuli eyes.
a snarl; a fang; a yawn;
a sorta toothy smile,
and sixteen stone-file retractable claws.
A William Blake poem that says
something about ‘fearful symmetry’.
But, today the ferocious hunter of
the jungle seemed to be nothing
more than a napping kitten.
It’s a lazy sunday for you and me both.
I’m watching a tiger in a cage,
but perhaps it’s watching me.
Blake and the others have got it all wrong--
there’s nothing fearful about your symmetry.
Chijindu 