Preys

I was the one sliced
from the herd, dragged

from the noise of hooves.
It was my blood

glazing his muzzle, my
muscle and sinew

warming his gut,
so when he lay down, I lay

with him, and together we listened
to rabbits snapping

small twigs underfoot.
We felt sun slip over

and fell into a long,
uncomplicated sleep

where I followed him
closing in on a gazelle limping

behind its herd. Our claws
bit into a quivering

haunch, I smelled the fetid
odor of fear. Teeth

ripped flesh, and I tasted
the sweet tang of blood.

When I awoke, the air, clean
and dry as crystal, tingled with light.

— Patty Paine