Circus of Death
He is restless, stripes blending and then confusing the shadows of the bars of his cage
Not having eaten for three days slow, ribs show, worms beneath the tawny and grey skin
He sometimes stares at me, just for the briefest moment, and then prowls with calm rage
Awaiting his freedom, though short, and he still prowls, a storm within.
The clamour down the tunnel, the odour of the dust and sweat waft around
He stares at me again, and then prowls nearer to the bars, beating heart
Muscles tense, his head moving from side to side, shoulders alternating up and down
Tail twitching, the tip whipping, sinuous snake and body alert, bowstring taut
A slight growl slides from his throat, anticipating what he always knows before me
From the light at the tunnels’ end, a command to loose the animals on hold
Steel doors are rammed open by me and others, the clang always making us freeze
Watching the sprint to the kneeling people in prayer, their hearts at peace, breathing the Word of God.
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