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Once Was a Killer

I stand, waiting, out of the dappled sun light.
Listening to the hollow timpani that is my 
stomach, the adrenalin coursing 
through my chest, telling me 'its time'

My neuronal switch 'clicks'. I am no longer
inert, I am hunter. I have smelled the air
and read its menu. I have stretched life
back into my stagnant limbs

The smell is strong, close. A young doe
stands on the edges of her grazing family. 
Young, healthy, unseasoned. When I pounce she 
will Freeze. Making the kill easy. She will be easy

I stifle a memory. I have lost so many on the hunt.
Sometimes, I get too close and they scream, causing
agitated stares, that force me back. Back to my
hunger. 

Twenty tries since my last kill. Twenty times I have salivated at 
the thought of my hunger being satisfied. My preening delayed ,
like a peacock whose feathers no longer meet the expectation of 
a mating ritual. 

Slowly. Slower than slowly. Time no longer exists for me, 
or for my kill. I skulk, each foot testing its ground before
being planted down. Hips sway low from side to side,
like an exotic dancer. Both of us earning our living. 

My heart rips through my own blood, ejaculating it into a
bursting surge. Now is the moment. There will be no other
moment. I lunge, connecting with flesh. Soft flesh. Power pulls my victim 
to the ground. I smell the sweet sweet smell of metallic ooze, dripping slowly,
like molasses from a wooden spoon. I hold my kill, turn and drag her away

Her family still graze, unaware of their loss. Unconscious of 
my facile victory. Time soon enough to savour their haunted calls

And what of my kill? Picked up like so much road kill. Just another unsolved 
homicide to add to my growing file. And what of me? I am once more content 
to wait for another sound to grow deep within my soul. For I am Tiger, Hunter. 
I am God!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 12/8/2015 11:11:00 AM
A remarkable portrait of a hunter at work... the arousal, the stalking, the engaging and finally the kill. You are never more powerful than in the moment of the kill... nothing else matters... all else flees from your mind, even your own well being. Superb.
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Date: 11/28/2015 10:36:00 PM
Terry, :) Congratulations on having your poem featured on the soups, Home Page. ~SKAT LOVE~
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things