ABSTRACT
She arrives with a lot of birds on her back. They remain even as she comes into the house and stands by the piano. No, birds indoors this way do not bode well and they regret this. The zebra is afraid of the small room the parents make ready for her – it’s too dark and the veldt can’t be seen from the window. The zebra is lonely even though the birds stay and retain their native markings for many generations, reminding her of the ancestors the ones who outran lions. The parents have slippery voices, like train whistles, like rain; there’s no making sense of them. Neighbor children whisper whenever she is on the lawn, chewing grass or just feeling the sun. They point and scream, Zebra! It’s true, but still she is offended. Her loneliness flies far from her eyes to these children, then spirals down like a shot bird.
