Natural Prey

by on November 1, 2023 :: 0 comments

After decades of sweet flesh
on demand ripe as cherries
time shifts your branches
thinned out, flashing
lights frighten you now
small animal, woman in linen
afraid the sky will descend
directly on you so scurry,
scurry into thigh-high grasses
lie down and wait, wait
for the stalk, the hunter
boot heels hard as bone
black eyes blank
on your shivering ribs
furry head so deep
in the soft green nest
you’ll miss the kill shot
when the spotlight flickers
goes out for good.

editors note:

A hapless hitch to hide in ditch, turned from hunter to hunted. – mh clay

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