he was the last kangaroo
                            tawny  white-bellied  terribly strong 
                                                                       a hero

he escaped from captivity not a zoo but rather from where he had been kept as a pet  

his mate a visiting veterinarian said is barren

                                                  she was there to breed

the family whose estate they lived on decided to kill her

he saw the gameskeeper of the menagerie enter the outbuilding where they were 

taken her

he heard her scream NO
                        it was abruptly consumed by a gunshot

she was butchered and would be eaten
 

he became an ungrateful pet
                               not overtly

he watched he paid attention to the keepers schedule                                                                                                                               one he assiduously maintained because he was also scheduled if he wanted to do what he wanted to do  but not there                
 
within two week recorded in the dirt pawmarks hidden under broadleaf foliage he planned a dusk break  when it fell the keeper anxious and distracted by his hurry to leave hed leave with him
                                                                                         leave  a verb adornedcoloured with a wry sense of irony

the turn-key engaged the lock undone the door swung in he smashed his skull between his foot and one tall concrete post that madeup part of a colonnade and fence that surrounded the animals

had he the dexterity to manipulate the many keys he would have freed all the animals 

maybe they would learn something by his example

                                                      they sensed his outrage and sorrow

it was palpable among them who humans deemed dumb beasts

outside the streets were roamed by uniformed soldiers

                                                          dressed to kill they looked like black alligators teethed with weaponry and cloaked with cyberskins and helmets to deflect paltry projectiles

no matter 

            he found they could betheir heads could be crushed if they were STOMPed 
 

he saw a young boy foolishly confront four soldiers scream his outrage at the top of his lungs his tears wetting his face

the boy reminded him of himself when his mate was murdered

                                                                  had he only come upon them moments earlier he might have been able to save the boy 

a soldier grabbed himheld him by his arms behind him while the second snapped his neck 

                                                                                             why waste munitions on a tick

he bulldozed the two who had their backs to himbowled them over

                                                                     since the dead boy still hung in ones handsthe other also had his back to him their arms were shouldered and strapped in holsters

                                                                                  fourfive vicious STOMPs  one apiece would have done it but he wanted them to be recognisable only by their dog tags dog tags

he returned to the other two who were yet on the ground dazed  he STOMPed their throats
 

when he was to be interned at the estate things he witnessed outside its walls were not as they were now

wandering cautiously he found the city dotted with enclaves of rubble firedtwisted steel spines and ribs clots of aggregate concrete fierce coloured graffiti and unburied bodies that seemed more to make a point than unclaimed  like heads once stuck on pikes

the dead didnt wear black alligator skins
 

he chose sides
 

he attacked small squads that had sluffed their skins piled them indecorously leaned their long weapons against them to eat or slack their thirsts from canteens 

he STOMPed them disemboweled them with the nails of his hindlegs and tore out their throats with his teeth

he loped away horrified by his bloodlust and violence 

                                                         had he not heard his mates cry witnessed the boys execution he may not have assumed or resigned himself to the prickly vengeance that percolated under his skin heated by his heart ached in his guts and they vivified by him knowing he was the last of his kind 

he sought deep woods

                         negotiated ragtag clusters of desperate human beings whose eyes bulged in their skulls as much from fear as by their starvation  rail-thin emaciated

whatever he escaped from and entered seemed to be have been persisting for a time

he browsed and grazed and kept movingmoving away from mechanised sounds and suffering voices
 

the air grew humid nights grew cooler

                                         it smelled more and more unlike anything he had ever smelled he fixated on it dumbed by it as a nail would be dragged forward by a magnet

he was getting closer

                       and closer
 

then he heard sonorous sustained crashing crashing and crashing what a beating something was suffering and something else was sustaining 

                                  a battle perhaps they battled unrelentingly for hours and its sounds grew louder and louder with each step they began to overwhelm anything he might have heard in lieu of them

he anticipated seeing 

                       seeing the warriors seeing the untold dead the devastation
 

breaking through a tall brush the powerful smell that intoxicated him rush up into his nostrils 

he stood at the edge of a cliff

                               the sea and land and stony beaches sprawled before him

he could not differentiate at the horizon the vast water or the vaster sky their bluestheir blood mingled ran together 

the blue was the colour of the dead boys eyes
 
still 
    pursuing this out-of-body lust he found it wanting he knew there was moreknew a promise had been made him and yet was withheld

he would have to retreat into the trees again and labour return to the flatland return to where black alligators and violence were a threat

the boy the boy 
              his mate
                   they were the fire in his heart  he knew that only the black mute of death could extinguish
 

he anticipated some thing
 

he crossed the flatland following the seas breath to a violated village that stood at its edge
                                                                                             more unburied bodies
it was silent except for the surf crawling up on the yellow beach then sifting away

a long pier ran into the sea and cut ropes tethered to posts hung down into the water

some thing beckoned him

                           demanded he walk out on the planks to the end of the pier
hed be utterly exposed 

he couldnt swim

he wept
       he wept until he saw that his tears were repelled the sand and they crawledrolled over and over themselves towards the pier

he followed themfollowed their example

he did not look back even when something swept across his backfear shivering his spine
                                                                                           he had come too far

stopping at the end of the pier he waited  stared out to sea   there was nothing  

finally he turned around

on the beach he saw the dead destroyed bodies standing they looked like scarecrows and those who had arms held them up high   reaching

a voice behind him spoke You misunderstand, they salute you -- he turned to the voice -- they had been hearing of you; you are their vengeance even as you avenge yourself.

in the water were nymphs he couldnt count that high the voice he heard was from their mouths their jaws and tongues moving in unison 

                   one voice

then the many coalesced one into another twos and threes forming one

                                                                            until there was only one

the one said The people believed.

                                      Do you believe?

Believe . . in what

Believe that what animated you, the side you chose in the city, you pursued righteously; you will continue your struggle.

I am one being

I am one being. 

                 You saw.

Yes

If it is your decision to pursue your quarry, and it is your decision; I can teach you to be as I am, as we are.
 

I need to think  I need rest

                                I need to sleep

Then sleep, kangaroo, maybe you will dream and divine what you must do. I will protect you. When you decide, I will return to you.

as he lay down and curled himself in a ball he saw her shiver  disseminate   becoming one among her others

he saw as he blinked that not all the nymphs were female as she 

                                                                then sleep came

 

0551,  Monday,  8  4. 19

1313,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  16  9. 20