I’m a wobbly monkey on Mondays,
hanging from the iron bar
with a forced, sardonic grin
as I swing in my cage,
plodding through the motions
of what monkey work
I’m trained to do
for the benefit of you.
On Tuesday’s I’m a stripped tiger
on the worn war path,
tearing through my routine
with red claws, devouring
anyone who muddles in my domain,
which is considerably larger
than a human brain thinks.
Wednesdays I croon in my cage
like a blue and green parrot
trained to be properly polite,
waiting for the gauche moment
to embarrass my owner
by insulting an invited guest
with my encyclopedic repertoire
of spine-shivering epithets.
I’m a badger on Thursdays,
truculent and immoveable
as a thousand pound stone,
weary of life’s platitudes
and the stack of unanswered mail--
I gaze out at the black-and-white landscape
seeing folly that I will not let
move me to act.
Friday’s I’m a brown ferret
too tired to dance, so I fidget
with papers and do-dahs
since that’s all I can manage,
unable to wait until
I can catch a breath of fresh air
and the scent of roses
as the sun sets.
Grinning and running,
I’m a Saturday zebra
jumping in my bold stripes,
leaping over logs and brush,
peering down ravines,
cluttering my hooves
on the history of humankind
and anything else that comes to mind..
On Sundays with glancing sunlight,
I’m a mellow tabby cat
asleep on the couch,
contented with my canned diet
and the odd bloody mouse,
as relaxed as a purr
that invades your ear
and tickles your intestines.