Remember the campground
in Maine, the one near the rocky
shore where we awoke at midnight
to the sounds of lions roaring?
Just beyond the fringe of trees
was a zoo, we learned, but not before
we had a visitor at our site,
a smaller feline, its tail a fan
of black and white fur. Here, kitty,
I purred, unzipping the tent.
Here, kittykittykittykitty. You
tugged the screen shut, pulled
me back. It’s a skunk, you said,
not a cat, then added Shoo! Pstt!
Undeterred, he sniffed our boots
and trash. And so we huddled
on the sleeping bag, our stillness
a spell to ward off his spray.
Eventually, he scuttled away.
Giggling, we dug back under
the covers. A black bear grunted.
A gorilla thundered Ugh ugh ugh.
An elephant played its trumpet.
And we made love.