A Taste for Blood

The tiger prowls, hungry, tired
Alert, the slightest nuance, wired
He stands alone with all the voices
Unaware of all his choices

Facing now the open air
Sand blasting through is tawny hair
Cut close, in stripes, to fool his prey
Believing he might want to play

No, not this time, not here, not now
No room for pleasure in this hour
Tomorrow, or tomorrow still
When he’s eaten, had his fill

Before the act, the final hour
Put away inside the tower
All his senses, keen to kill
A taste for blood, it soothes the will

To reckon with the darkened clouds
Stormy chambers, far too proud
Why not chase the prey instead
Salve the mind, the wounds, the head

Hazy visions, nothing clear
To keep at bay the frozen fear
Dripping echoes, burning brain
Douse the bellowing refrain

Waiting in the silent halls
Sounds from ancient tombs, they call
The senses into action, pray
Choices made will save the day

Yet just beyond the barren plain
A golden blaze, a streak of shame
Shattered, left for dead, alone
Silenced, chalky, battered bones

Rise up before your prey eludes you
Lost to time, the stars, you’ll see through
Moments, months, unending years
She makes her move and disappears