The Thylacine’s Lament

They alliterated me,
called me the Tasmanian Tiger,
me, a marsupial.
They think they obliterated me,
but here I am, lurking
in the murky shadows
between sorrow and laughter,
cowering in sun burnt woods.
I only come out at night,
and you are waiting to find out
if my bark is worse than my bite.

Kim M. Russell, 20th December 2018

Image result for Thylacine
Benjamin, the last Thylacine photographed by Dr. David Fleay in it’s tiny pen at the Beaumaris Zoo in Hobart, December 19th 1933 – image found on Pinterest

My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads Fireblossom Friday: Lament for the Thylacine

Today we have a new Fireblossom Friday (or Thylacine Thursday),  In which Shay asks us to consider the thylacine and choose to write about: the actual creature, either from our own or the animal’s (imagined) point of view; the thylacine metaphorically, as a symbol for anything gone, wasted, missed, or surviving despite all odds against it; or a celebration of the thylacine for its utter uniqueness–there is no other like it. Poems of any length or style are fine, as is flash fiction or flash 55 (exactly 55 words.)

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