Snow Moon

Snow Moon

Everyone loved Snow Moon,
the albino orangutan. Everyone
except other orangutans

who were turned off by such
an outsider. The male orangs—
who the zoo hoped

would mate with Snow Moon
the way ribald bachelors
might perk up at the chance

of dating Miss Universe—
turned away. She proved
as attractive as snow blindness.

The zoo had counted
on Snow Moon birthing
albino orangutans. Instead

she withdrew more and more,
her heart seared by loneliness.
The zoo's visitors loved her

but Snow Moon didn't care,
often turning her back
on her most ardent fans

as naturally as a snow leopard
seeks shade in record heat.
Everything changed the day

she pinned Charley—a boy
who somehow slipped into her world—
against her chest, his legs

dangling. "This is what happens"
when you live in isolation,"
someone said as a zookeeper

placed a bucket of bananas
just beyond Snow Moon's reach.
Inexplicably, Charley

didn't freakout. Instead
he warmed to Snow Moon's embrace.
Again the keeper approached

but Snow Moon clutched
the boy tighter, her eyes wary,
her muscular arm

clutching her new family.
Three hours of durians
and mangoes failed as bribes.

Then, for reasons known
only to Snow Moon, she simply
let go of the boy.

Quickly the keeper
leaped in, grabbed Charley
and ran from the enclosure,

the crowd applauding
while Snow Moon brooded
in a corner. How could she

keep from going crazy in a world
so callow as to think
that buckets of fruit

could ever be fair exchange
for family—and someone
to hold onto?