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I, too, was once young enough
to take giraffes for granted.

They seemed no more
marvelous than Labradors

or elms. Just one more form
among a myriad to name & know.

The older I get, the stranger
they grow. I point

at their impossible spindlelegs
& extension-ladder necks,

their staggering spots & spacecamel
faces, up there

lunching on trees: Look!
Look! I say to my son,

who shrugs, I already
saw 'em, and turns away.

Can we go look at the snakes?

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Barbara Louise Ungar.


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