The baby rhinos are coming
in their mother’s armoured car.
They’re coming fast,
muscular and clumsy.
They’re coming with heads of steel and husky roars
with bellies full of rhino milk.
They’re coming with barbells and boulders
and cumbersome toys.
They’re coming with powerful horns
and big baby teeth.
They’ll flatten the cat flap
with stout little legs,
crash through the front door
like high-pressure hoses.
The furniture has been anchored
throughout the house.
It’s a wild day for toddlers
when every cell is rhino cell.
I may need to move
to higher ground.
guest poet for the Tasmanian Poetry Festival 2014