The Leopard

She feels the shape of another animal

three trees ahead & raises her left front paw.

Dew trembles on each blade of grass

as a snake uncoils among the leaves.

She’s a goddess in a world mastered

by repetition & unearthly cadence,

pacing off light hidden in darkness.

She eases down her right paw,

slow as coming to an answer

of the oldest unspoken question.

The prey lifts its sluggish head,

listening for a falling star,

a river running over stones,

& then returns to the hare

half-eaten beside a blooming hedge.

A hundred doors spring open.

A raised paw descends skillfully,

softly. The grass rises behind her.

The mitigated laws of kingdom,

district, & tribe do not matter here.

She crouches down inside her

longing, one great leap away

from a wild, simple knowledge.

Sinew, muscle, gratitude—she—

& then to ride another animal

down to growl, tussle, gristle,

& blood-lit veins on leaves left

quivering in the passing night.