Sunday, November 18, 2012

Morbid Gifts to Contemplate

I cannot walk away from your purring and crunching
Though it turns my stomach to hear the joy in your brunching
On blood and marrow slurped and sucked as little bones crack
And a new mouse-tailed whisker from you sprouts.

These predatory laws of behavior elude me.
Why torment and tease and play with life?
And, my God, did that mesmerized mouse just run back to you?
When you offered it life?  Is prey in love with death?  What lies did you tell it?

I tuck in my chin and defend against an uppercut to my spirit.
My elbows guard her solar plexus from having breath kicked out of her.
Upon the balls of my feet she rises light and nimble
To take the center of the ring and not a corner.

Would I could sit cross legged on a water lily,
But for me awareness comes on the blade of a knife.
And now I see the revolutions of it falling and grasp it by the handle.
My awareness is not the awakening we all are seeking, perhaps.

I ponder this as my cat brings me yet another morbid gift to contemplate.