Zebras
  
 I fashion zebras
 however I can. 
  
 Each one is distinct,
 printed with 
  
 patterns decreed
 under her skin.
  
 I know that the wild
 herds in my mind
  
 will not stampede
 across this page.
  
 They are fierce, free,
 run where they will.
  
 Each zebra is shy 
of reins, contains 

whole rainbows, 
has no need of me, 
  
 but still I sing to each.
 I summon them by
  
 stroking black ink
 on fields of blank 
  
 white. Maybe they
will turn, catch me 
  
 in nets cast by
 their bold stripes.
  
Then, just 
 for a moment,
  
 I can stand near, 
 breathe alongside.
  
 Leslie Schultz