I Wish I Was Like Zuri by Shaan Udani (New Jersey)

So yellow, so parched, so wrinkly
The aftermath of an envelope after you’ve torn open a letter.
Dry, like lips in the dead of winter, but it's July.
She emerges from the plains of the Serengeti.
I’ll call her Zuri.[1]
 
This cheetah is so free in her gait and gut
A freedom I thought I had.

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The ability to soar, to glide, to fly
Transcendently above her surroundings.
Her stalk of everyday life’s truth.
 
She is a steady creeper.
Like a bolt she pounces at a gazelle
Echoes are heard in the distance
The prey now hangs from Zuri’s bite.
She is not bound to anyone or anything.
 
Blood, flesh, bones glide from Zuri’s mouth
No napkins to catch the juices.
Satiated she heads home with the torn gazelle
Her brawling cubs frolicking through the shrubs
Babies lingering about the kill, ready to feast.
 
Her adventure is complete, a familiar ritual.
The stars show themselves
Temperature turns to frigid
I understand Zuri’s free spirit now.
The ability to do whatever she pleases.​


[1] Swahili for beautiful; unchained in thought and body.