Last night, before I went to sleep, I asked my subconscious to please allow me a dream of the the animal whom I should write about in my next Zoo stanza. Thinking tragic, majestic, poetic. Thinking Rilke.
Goldfish. That's what I dreamed about. Trying to keep two goldfish alive in my bra - bowls and Tupperware being unavailable, apparently - by pouring water into it. Pleasingly, I not only managed to keep the fish alive; one of them even gave birth to a little goldfish. Touching.
Ape, eagle...goldfish ? I don't think so.