Predator

i was crawling on the dirt floor,
over misshapen droppings
of impotent time
that had foraged, gluttonous,
on the shrivelled roots of its misspent youth,
measuring life in regrets,
in long cubits of absence;

but sometimes, i think,
joy studies me
from the shadows,
a predator,
i feel her burning, amber gaze
as she runs her tongue
over broken, sharp edged teeth;

she rumples the heavy canopy,
to let bands of fluorescent sunrise
creep over my bloodless skin,
shivering as they cross over
to your unslept chill;

she collects rain
in striped palm buckets,
to ensnare for me,  the freckled moon,
its inverted lament
drowning in your rippled shallows;

she tries again,
plucks her one stringed lute,
but sorrow blossoms in this song-less night,
simpatico,
inventing new games
for impenitent thorns
to break through still raw scabs;

joy waits,
nervous feet twitching against
obsidian doors,
a new manoeuvre beating,
arrhythmic tunes,
in her hollow breast;

the dark pastiness,
smiles slowly,
a murder of crows
salivating on the salty crust
of grief’s unbound hair;

joy stretches,
still in the hunt,
her serrated fangs
glistening,
in the silent shadows,
a predator,
i feel her breath,
warm and wet,
heaving against
my broken spine.

Linked to  Poets United where the midweek prompt is “Joy”.