You were not the lucky one
hopping through days
beneath the hunter's lazy eye
drawn askance, aimless.
Unfanged, your off head, delicate
ears, liver gnawed in the shade
as the cat read its own meaning
in your unwound guts splayed over
blood spotted stones. One future
do I see told in these remains:
we will battle with charmed feet
licked clean of their saving grace.