|
| predator | |
| she soars like a hawk, | |
| dangerously circling, | |
| mere feet from the presence | |
| of unaware prey | |
| tensed at ten miles an hour | |
| the silent stalker, ready to pounce. | |
| she spots what she's hunting | |
| eyes narrow to slits | |
| in sudden intense concentration | |
| mouth purses, the corners | |
| tightening tense as a bow | |
| that strains to contain | |
| the arrow's path | |
| of the suddenly aimed | |
| front of her car | |
| pouncing, | |
| tiretreads clawing the unaware back | |
| of an innocent parking space. | |
| © Jon Bohrn (1999) |
