Convincing Thylacine

Resuming bulk from those which almost don't exist Stoic in my unique role, careful timber tiger crafter Tiny depicted tigers roll on wheels, pulled by strings Lasting remnants of an animal disappearing faster Eager tourists, affluent enough to pay admission Flock to witness the final marsupial's mystique Many striped predecessors, hunted to extinction Troops are scouring habitat, a specimen they seek Partnerless canid cage pacing future seems bleak History's camouflage hails a shameful critique Rucksack bumpy with fifty wooden replicas A long week's worth of care, painted precision I trek a mile of of dense hill bush hike arduous To give Last Tiger shop their hot cake provisions Tabled display draws awe stuck children, ironic Their admiration for wooden scuptures intense Crazed praise for rare cat, manic sprung from it Taking my pay, ready to repeat, my heart laments For the futlie pursuit of proud viewers' affluence Satisfaction part macabre holds their suspense Hessian emptiness nestled beneath my armpit Familiar meander to log stumped hut, return to task Seeing striped stirring, captures, breath insufficient Thylacine's elusive emergence, most likely the last He growls, scared departure means an outcome grim Finding my voice, I tell him I need him to maintain My craft, - his image inspires it, - I'll never exploit him After fragile minutes, his wavered trust, incredibly gained Following yellow bush thigh high survivor anointed With thylacine compassion, - he is home,- reunited 8th August 2020