When the panther came no belfrey rang alarums, no cleric spat his tea. When the panther came the sky and lawn were still. The panter came through forest, through field, up to the wall and my one blossoming cherry tree. I had constructed the world as it was and had pared the body from the customs of languor. It pressed its nose against the pane and its gears ground me away into ribbons of dissonance. It turned and sauntered into the shadows. Its paw marks on the earth like cherries too ripe in a white bowl.
From Five Seasons of Obsession: New & Selected Poems, by Ned O'Gorman, published by Books & Co. Copyright © 2001 by Ned O'Gorman. Reprinted by permission of Books & Co. All rights reserved.