October 27, 2007

• poem

  I am the hunted
  never killed
  they don’t pursue for hides or teeth or flesh
  they are eaters of pain
  of fear and of frustration

  but I have learned to hide
  my psyche motionless, emitting nothing
  my body curled against some warm hollow
  while they pass by
  sniffing at the air

  soon they will no longer recognize my scent
  and I will be free to dance and smile
  without, as I often have within

  • 4:50 pm
  • 7 Comments