Panther

Yellow-eyed black at raising claws to slap

This one is nicer than my dream

WayneSL 1988

Gray unpainted pews in a gray unpainted station
hints of brown beneath the dust
no train, no bus.
The man in the pew ahead is holding
a huge black cat
long and thin, of silken soot.
He holds it like a baby at his shoulder,
rocking forward, pats its neck
and the cat glares back at you.
Rocking back they creak the pew
and the panther takes a swipe.

Taloned paw on snake-thin foreleg,
lifted high in graceful motion,
flung down, stretching out to strike,
but not quite reaching eye and lip
The wind of a near miss ruffles your hair
and all you can do is gag and stare
The yellow eye is welded to your own
and every slap comes closer…

Hard-on Her-shelf

scream

to be read aloud- not for the eyes alone

WayneSL 1988

She’s
clearly stated,
lamb-innate-dead,
full-did, stay-pulled,
mute-ill-aided.
Her
over-raided
hair is plated,
care-full color
punk-chew-ate-id;
thin, sharp loins
suck-singly sated.
Tho’
she in her-nest
met-hid-dated,
won-tied meat-who
fill her jaded
cave-urn up, she
weak-need hated,
met-dick-ate-head,
then be-rate-dead.
In
steel and glass her
heart/womb crated.
Now
from her four-tress
priss-on fires the
flaming bolts of
quenched desires
and suffers more than
lone-lie-nest