The Descent of Man
They fall from the trees with the greatest of ease;
Orang utans have elbows for knees.
Crashing through branches, via branchlets and twigs,
Swinging from vines by opposable toes
While flailing at creepers and strangling figs,
One starts to descend as it rambling rose
Hand over foot over foot over foot over hand,
With none of the grace of a sycamore seed,
Riding a trunk like a surfer on speed
It plummets to earth and comes into land.
But once on the ground, an improbable hulk,
It shuffles along with its fingers spread out,
Reverts to a knuckle, a shamble, a sulk
Then squats on a rock and glares all about.
Out of its depth and a bag full of woes,
A grounded orang’s like a sea turtle beached,
Adrift on the earth like a submarine breached
And caught on a rock with its head in its toes.
Bound to the ground with a bearing that’s pained
Like that of a raven whose feathers are clipped
And locked to the land like Andromeda chained
Awaiting her hero’s return from the crypt
Of the foul witch Medusa who turned men to stone
Like our silent orang who has moved not an inch.
Lost to the world like an orange-haired Grinch,
With arms clasped to chest he sits all alone
‘Til suddenly stirred our orang utan stands
And reaches above to take hold of a vine.
Shifting his weight his feet become hands
Once again in a mockery of the human design
And hand over foot over foot over hand
His steady ascent is described by the sound
Of the breaking of branches by movements unplanned.
Our primitive cousin renounces the ground
And climbs through the trees with the greatest of ease.
Orang utans have elbows for knees.
