The Leopard

            for Yael

You are reporting on the leopard. You are only seven
and you already know the leopard
comes in greys as well as yellows.

The leopard’s children
tumble in the shadow of a rock.
Gazelle bolt in the distance.

Reporting on the leopard
turns life and death
into simple declarative sentences.

The gazelle ignores the leopard
until the leopard snaps its neck.
In your kitchen love and hate

shadow each other
the way you are shadowed
by the birthday that tiptoes closer.

You are only seven and you already know
you are the prey
of the love you cannot escape. Love

flings its kill over branches
in the jungle
that is your kitchen.

You are only seven and you already know
its spots will make love hard to see
until it snaps your neck.