--William E. StaffordA sign said “How to Be Wild—the Lessons Are Free,”so I edged past, bolted insidecarefully,where the edge of a jaguarroved beyond the barsand narrowed the room. Its head,one eye at a time,sewed the tent to the stars; and the cageballooned when he turned.Mid-stride, I froze and staredpast enemiesthat fell in droves down aislesof my memories.My bones—wild flowers—burnedat whatever I’d lost,but my enemies burned up tooin that holocaust;and I strode on, caged from themin disregard,swerving, momently aimed,like a jaguar.The calm now, made to forgiveby bars between,still fitted in those paw glovesI walk what I mean.
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