Hunter
Hunter
By Marie Gordon
I could smell you chirping
With lemur eyes
I could hear you cowering
With mousy ears
This forest reeks of you
With twinkling leaves
The bloody bark will dribble
So eerie still
How you scamper, rustling
Snapping branches
As you tumble into fate
With thumping heart
You are my sweet delight
With tender meat
Oh so delicately pierced
By the hunter
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This is a poem that should have concluded after three verses, after the powerful image of tumbling into fate. But, whether it is tumbling into fate or skinning pet chinchillas, these are really good poems from soneone with considerable promise in a future where the personal becomes less so and the universal becomes her client; where the controlled structure gives way to a looser style where imagination flows freely…or, to be precise, more freely.