Hippo Poem by Charl JF Cilliers

Outweighed only by the elephant and whale,
the river horse no longer sprints
across the veld, preferring to sog
in the mud and slush of vleis.
The dumpy torpedo tube of flesh and flab
can launch itself through water
on four-engined feet.
Its heart beats thick as ooze
that sludges through its excavating jaws,
driving the sunken lung of lard
to territorial wars.
Its woeful cry echoes like a rasping pump
dredging up sediment.
It can sink like a delicate bubble
into mud and mire.

But beware the sudden rise
of snorkelling nostrils and bulging eyes,
and jaws, which could seemingly suck flesh from bone,
opened as if to swallow the sun.