The tiger people have robes and jewels.
There is an abundance of fruit but it is talking.
No one is eating any of the circuses.
It is because they sense the dead are dreaming.
Silently. Below.

Inside the tigers there are tiny machines.
They were made by a river named Ethelethendru.
Sometimes I am the tongue of the river.
A snake rides me into the sky and disappears.
Silently. Above.