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(for Yann Martel)
The child blew a whistle to tame Richard Parker,
the tiger who survived, his name, Richard Parker.
Once a sailor, cabin boy and son, through a twist
of fate or fiction, he became, Richard Parker.
It was Bengali blood, and fierce
Symmetry that would frame Richard Parker.
The story goes on, the life of pi is such
and you are still the same, Richard Parker.
The little sailor survived through you,
each stripe another story, a survival game, Richard Parker.
You are made of dreams and a little fear,
your mane is a honey colored quick flame, Richard Parker.
For a cat at sea each chapter brings more the same,
in novels even the sun and wind take aim, Richard Parker.
If I find you in the forest dear on some dark night
I hope the stars will shine your eyes and I exclaim, Richard Parker!
