Cheetah

Cheetah

I wake,
From the bed of moss that I fell on,
Stretch, and the memory comes back,
Meat, and a tasty skin,
Gnawed on a previous night,
My mate,
Soft in fur and vicious in refusal,

Later, full strength, I hunt,
Not for days have I eaten,
Nor have I drunk,
My ribs rub against the inner skin,
Of my warm patterned fur,

It moves and I was right,
The herd are ahead ready for me,
And my brethren,
Ready for my sister, and brother, and mate,
They know,
Although we lack in knowledge and strength,
Compared to them, we are a fly,
On the dark skin of a hunter,
But we have speed, and stamina,
We work together to bring the easy one down,
No guilt, for it is survival,
No shame, for we were made this way,
No mercy, for we are hungry,

They do not see us,
Disguised in the long colourless grass,
Hidden by the bosom of the earth,
I take a wrong step,
They see us,
Quickly, we charge,
At their melting legs, their quivering eyes.
One, small and weak,
Trips on a rock,
Smack!
An easy meal, but we see no purpose.

I lie there, under the hands of the earth,
Gnawing Gristle Grease,
At the loose limb, swaying in my paws,
I look back and my mate approaches,
A kicked eye,

But I have no sympathy,
She has found her mate.

And I sleep now,
Waiting,
Waiting,
Waiting,
For the night to end,
To look upon my empire once more,
To find the horizon of the rising sphere.
Tomorrow, I will wonder,
Through the grass and mud and moss,
Drink at the shallows and,
Stay clear of the hippos.
For I am a Cheetah.
And I sleep under the pierced blanket,
And Wait,
Wait,
Wait,