as a natural predator,
you must be able
to detect
how my heart flings itself
like a finch, near
suicidal with fear
against the curves of my rib
cage when I see you.
I see you
lying there in the grass
trying to look
like an innocent thing,
but we both know
what you really are.
we both know how
easily you can scent
my tiny mouse’s heart
racing, my cowering blood
lively and delicious
with terror, all you have
to do is taste the air
with your forked tongue.
R. Brookes McKenzie 