Unfair Trade

A baby chimp in hand
Is better than four of them dead in the bush,
But most priceless is his head-scratching habit
When wondering where his family went.

A shark’s fin soup
tastes grey and cold once you’ve surmised
That the Great White,
de-finned alive
Is with its alcoholic eyes and body
Still executing the Jig of Death in the deep.

The fiery stripes on the rug of tiger-pelt
Is nothing compared to a tiger’s actual presence felt
Stalking through the jungle.
Tyger tyger burning bright, what human Gun for Hire
Dares light your funereal pyre?

Humans often overlook to be Humane
By gazing with disdain
at the idea that
there is beauty in Letting Be.
For all our great strides in international comity,
Walking upright as masters of diplomacy,

The Unfair Trade betrays only one thing:
That we all still lack expertise
in the Great Art of Coexisting.