The Kill
It's to be expected
this time of year, mid Winter,
a merciless wind straight
off the bay blowing
leaves left over from Autumn,
lifting them like dead prey
flicked up by the claws
of a cat reliving the kill
in its remorseless play.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.