There is an art to distraction. Like magic.
Every staged waterfall confirms it, every strategically placed rock.
Ironically, this has always made you feel confined, admit it.
Children now gather by the manufactured creek, small mouths agape.
The giraffes are moaning—no, bellowing—frothy, drooling, in wild ecstasy.
Blushing mothers fuss with babies. Fathers wander off, smirking.
But the children stare and stare, alarmed or amazed—depending.
Until one deft mom winks, breaks open a box of zoo animals:
cookie, anyone?
Even you forget yourself.
Heather Angier earned an MFA in English and Creative Writing from Mills College, and her work has appeared in many journals, including Zyzzyva and Poetry East. She has two chapbooks available: Crooked (Dancing Girl Press) and Nest (Finishing Line Press).