If I had enough trees
To house all the birds I’ve ever seen
I would love that
And I’d tell the koalas in the next room over
Of the view and allow them visiting hours
Through an uneven cut-out in the wall
Between the penguins and every species of iguana

When does the painted donkey become
A zebra?
In whatever state, his life lasts
Only as long as the poet’s attention
Until everyone wears out
He can ride on my back
Or maybe on the back of the snake
In the basement
Who is learning how to brush
Out his eyebrows and fold his skin
After shedding

Maybe this is what your servant felt
On the big wooden boat he built
Obediently
Prophesying about the end of the world
And taking with him only what was important
To G-d and to fertile land
So that after the inevitable flood
We can all go back to lunging at
Or loving each other
In the meantime, I pray for rain