Feeding Time at the Zoo
The owl stretched its neck, glugged glugged
glugged the rat deeper down its throat,
the tail drooping from the upturned
beak like a second tongue. My younger
self, barely nine years old, looked on
with a shocked grimace. He gasped
as if he were witnessing a desecration,
not the circle of life—prey & predator
becoming one with each throat-rippling
swallow. He stood back, gaze fixed
on the owl’s yellow eyes, the wary
way it watched him tremble, watched
him stare at the rat’s tail continuing
its descent into darkness, darkness.
He pictured himself as that rat.
He realized his life—our life—will
one day vanish into shadow. His body,
too, will no longer belong to him.
About the Author: Jacob Butlett has an MFA in Creative Writing (Poetry) from Southern Illinois University, Carbondale. He teaches first-year composition at Minnesota State University, Mankato, and works as the Head Poetry Editor at Blue Earth Review. He is the author of the poetry book Stars Burning Night’s Quiet Rhapsody (Kelsay Books, 2024).
Image Credit: John Gould: Athene Noctua. Little Owl Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 