When We Shot the Last Rhino

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A fabled hunter from Milan

or Mombasa or somewhere

raised his arms high

and screamed in bloody triumph.

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A cameraman from Berlin

or Budapest or somewhere

caught it on film

and said it was a defining moment.

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A clever artist from Canberra

or Cape Town or somewhere

preserved its skin

and claimed it was cutting-edge art.

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An entrepreneur from Beijing

or Bangalore or somewhere

ground its horn

and sold it as a love potion.

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A wealthy lady from Marseilles

or Manchester or somewhere

wept for its death

and said it was a beautiful creature.

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A wannabe hunter from New York

or New Delhi or somewhere

marvelled at the shot

and hoped they’d show him killing the last lion.

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First published in ‘For Rhino in a Shrinking World’