On the wall,
in a hunting lodge,
hangs a moth eaten tiger pelt.
The once fierce animal,
shot by a red faced colonel
and now
a dismally, forgotten trophy.

There are no tigers in Bengal
except for a mad one in a zoo
wears a helmet to stop it
committing suicide
by banging its head against iron bars.

Tigers are not social animals,
but each one knows where the others are
and that’s good for a tiger to know
there are no tigers in Bengal
the last one hangs on a wall.