Bob Ward
Wartime at the Zoo
Since lions were not left free to slaughter
cattle for themselves, keepers had to do it.
A matey one showed me the instrument:
a stumpy barrel ending in a thick brass
execution block to be placed between the horns
humanely. The carcasses got cloven, barrowed,
forked into cages before an eager crowd.
But cows’ heads were not deemed suitable
for being gnawed in public, so they were covertly
incinerated well beyond the bandstand on the lawn.
Once at the furnace they hung about for days.
Scouting bluebottles buzzed for reinforcements
until their maggots kicked up such a stink
that I could hear them writhing as I stooped.
My job then was retrieving fat white wrigglers
as they tumbled from their fleshpots into ash
- there were goldfish, toads, lizards to be fed.
Distantly, the band of the Coldstream Guards
played popular brazen melodies; the tunes
thumped on through my head while maggots
nipped by finger and thumb twitched in their prime.
Colonel Bogey marched most Sunday afternoons.
cattle for themselves, keepers had to do it.
A matey one showed me the instrument:
a stumpy barrel ending in a thick brass
execution block to be placed between the horns
humanely. The carcasses got cloven, barrowed,
forked into cages before an eager crowd.
But cows’ heads were not deemed suitable
for being gnawed in public, so they were covertly
incinerated well beyond the bandstand on the lawn.
Once at the furnace they hung about for days.
Scouting bluebottles buzzed for reinforcements
until their maggots kicked up such a stink
that I could hear them writhing as I stooped.
My job then was retrieving fat white wrigglers
as they tumbled from their fleshpots into ash
- there were goldfish, toads, lizards to be fed.
Distantly, the band of the Coldstream Guards
played popular brazen melodies; the tunes
thumped on through my head while maggots
nipped by finger and thumb twitched in their prime.
Colonel Bogey marched most Sunday afternoons.
Page(s) 46
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