Parties
Tonight While I Cry
There’s parties tonight;
surely somewhere all
the rabbits, the rodents,
reptilian
kind of the soft and the
small and the smooth
and the cold are dancing.
Because you have
stopped hunting. I ever I,
do I cry
for you? Just for you? No,
you remind me
of someone else’s fluid,
long thin-muscled
body that molded itself into
my
arms. He hunted the little
ones too. Wisdom
(for the search), grace (for
the stalk), speed (for the
kill). I couldn’t expect
them to mourn the clawed
shadow in the grass. Who’ll
miss the huntress?
who was also soft and small
and smooth, and now…cold.