there is something of the wild
left in him, a tail twitch answer
to the cry of bird, a regal
tilt of the head as he
watches me move about the room
swirling the absent glass

I wonder how close beneath
the surface that hunger lies
when next he will lay me down
devouring unexpected
how little it might take
for him to turn upon me
with a red-hot fury
or when he leaves me behind
how deep the claw marks

	-deb/acm  (7/98)