Ari
“Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani?”
My hands and nose press against this glass.
Behind it, he prowls.
Restless, at once.
At once, ravenous.
I would disappear in his long-toothed caress.
I would vanish like drops of water on a blade of grass
In the hot savannah sun.
They made it perfect for him, inside this glass.
They made it perfect;
So he would remember the chase.
Body of fire, sinews of steel—
The hunt begins.
Hot breath on tanned skin and jaws that sink deep
Into innocent flesh.
They put a stucco cave over there.
And over here a few rocks, a gnarled tree or two, and of course —
His pride.
My body melts against this glass.
One look from his arrogant gaze and I see those who have scaled these walls;
Hurling their bodies like autumn leaves on a crisp day
— softly falling.
I would fall too.
But instead, I fold like origami upon this sterile floor, behind his glass.
Both of us restless, at once.
At once, both ravenous.
Copyright © Natasha Deonarain | Year Posted 2016
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