Hunter
/On that first day
you found me
and sat quietly in
the corner,
watching. The
patient hunter
watching me
dance on deer legs.
All knees and scars
and sunshine and you
sat, in the shadows, watching
me spin in the green
grass. Spin and spin
until I fell,
shot down by
youthful folly,
and when red drops
fell on bright green
grass,
then you were
no longer watching.
On that second day
you found me
and sat again,
watching. Predator
holding me by
the throat
as I paint my lips red
and laugh viscera
onto green
grass. Hooves
hidden in high heels
and bullet hole haunches
covered in a
party dress.
And you sit,
watching.
On that third day
I find you
and I do not watch.
I gift you
bullet wounds.
Clean your blood
from the green grass.
That is mine now.
I do not watch.
By KB Baltz
From: United States