Of Seals, and Our Smiles

　　by Michael Benedikt

　　 The last time they did any harm to anyone was probably thousands

　　 of years ago；therefore we catch them and cut them up into coats，

　　 Their frolicsomeness， too， sliced up by contemptuous human analysis；

　　 Yes， through the binoculars of the human in the dinghy，

　　 like a text beneath some mad scientist's magnifying-glass

　　 The seals as they cavort， tend to scan like some pre-prepared，

　　 allegedly amusing， and gloriously convenient gloss which only tells us

　　 That the weak are only here on this our sad planet to be hurt.

　　 The last time they did any harm to anyone was probably thousands

　　 of years ago；therefore we find them in the circus，

　　 like purportedly hilarious characters， forced by us to be terribly funny

　　 On multicolored stands， noses pressed up against old auto-horns，

　　 Falling all over themselves， and performing national anthems such

　　 as "God Bless America"； "God Save The King"； and， sometimes，

　　 occasionally still， "The Internationale"

　　 Half-Starved for a half-rotten fish， and the target

　　 Of our ancient disrespect， secret loathing，

　　 and finally outright public contempt

　　 Since the weak are only here on this our sad planet to be hurt.

　　 Gaze， gaze again， oh Humans of Goodwill，

　　 upon more of what even our children typically can see

　　 Examine， for example， the sight of a seal coming out of its

　　 little white hut in a crowded city zoo；

　　 and then， as it raises its remaining nose to sniff the city air

　　 Slipping on a banana-peel； and， oh yes， let's examine all the

　　 uproarious reactions to that， as the creature falls

　　 For as long as the weak are only here on this our sad planet to be hurt