Sunday, November 23, 2008

The Tigress

The tigress lies in the night
bereft of her cub she sighs
sorrows to the sky above
the hunt, the kill-no joy
necessity her only persuasion
her life passed on into another
who, taken, passed on itself
into the hands of strangeness
the stars, foreign and familiar
she lies searching the air
to find the star she bore

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