THEIR FIRST HUNT
I am afraid of that woman.
I have seen the scorpion tip
of her soft red mood
and felt the feathered grip
beneath the jess, the hood.
I am afraid of that man,
I have smelled the oestrous rut
that enjoys the sting
and heard the gun click shut
at the lift of the wing.
I am afraid, life,
of your poison and passion.
I am afraid, death,
of your sureness and speed.