The song of the orangutan – Samuel Heatley

The song of the orangutan

Sam Heatley

They came just before dawn, Orange jackets, big machines. My mother and I were in the tree that holds all the birds and fruit and is always the dampest in the rain. The small ones shout and fire three at my mother … BANG BANG BANG Ringing in my head … BANG BANG BANG. I jump off her back, and then I see her, Falling, falling, falling. I peek over the edge of the branch, To watch her body thrown into a black bag. One points at me, Then a red feather of a dart is stuck in my leg, as I feel myself Falling, falling, falling.

I wake up in a metal box, One side has bars thin enough for me to fit my fingers through. I see two of them, One in the same orange jacket, The other handing over green bank notes, And that’s the last I remember.

Now I live in that metal box. Sometimes I swing on the bars of the grilled side, And screech: “Where’s my mother? Where’s my mother?” The man walks in, And shouts at me and hits the top of the box. I bare my teeth and ask him again, For good measure. He doesn’t seem to hear me. I show him what I mean by banging my head Against the side of the cage … BANG BANG BANG.