Wild

Wild

Jessie Davis

Sister says the zebra is trying to disassociate from his own life.
I saw him splitting his chest open,
filling the inside with mud, and stumbling away.
Bleak horizons reflected in his eyes. No sun.
Flies gathering in places where the mud is oozing out.
Out in the open begging for a spotlight.
His stripes creating an optical illusion.
Announcing every other hour that he is not hiding parts of himself anymore.
Then he turns off his camera and sits alone, sobbing quietly in a corner.
Striking match sticks on packs of gum sticks that quickly lose their flavor.
Little flames drop down to burn holes in his feet.
Match after match.
Smoking hot air.
He finds it hard to breathe.
I would say his future was stolen from him.
But I know he gradually carved it into pieces and buried it in a trash bag under his bed,
as some evil spirit turned on the APPLAUSE sign. The audience’s turn for attention.
His life is killing him.
He wants his father to come in and say I love you.
But he doesn’t know what his father looks like.

Sleeping outside in the hard dust,
naked, without a blanket.
Believing no one created him.

Hyenas are invited to hear his next joke at the edge of a cliff.
I have to look away at this part of a nature documentary.
I have to close my eyes and plead and cry until someone changes the channel.

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Jessie Davis
Poet & Actor

Jessie is a theatre artist from upstate South Carolina.

Photography by Logan Armstrong