The tiger sat for a long time
beside the telephone in my house.
When it rose and began to stalk
the day had darkened.
It blew its warm breath into my ears
as I tried to sleep.
When I turned over, pretending
to be asleep,
before it left us forever
striding past everyone, past everything,
it lay down and rolled over once:
the warmth of my daughter’s belly
as she lay beside me
spreading over its face.
When the day dawned, I saw
my daughter; and beside her
a handful of sand
from the island next to ours.