Silence,
then the throb of pulse on stone:
stifled pangs vibrate through bars.
Pacing paws go round and round:
echoes come but no one stirs.
Jet and amber flying lizards
and their wings above the cell:
how they love their music-making,
stringing notes from wall to wall.
Midnight shadows chase the moon,
brand a stave with stripes of ink.
Muffled drum-beats sound in vain:
quavers pelt a dappled flank.
Stars retreat while ticking rhythms
rise from song sheets for the dawn.
Lizards fill their scales with freedom
while a tiger hunkers down.
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An anthology of Poetry about the decline of the natural world, a collective voice for the voiceless. With quotations and fantasy artwork by Josephine Wall. 
There’s definately a lot to find out about this issue.
I really like all of the points you’ve made.
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