They All Wait Watching With More Than Eyes Poem by James McLain

To hear their tails
jerked of hair
or combed back into
it'self against or
with the grain
and no hurts.

Relief
to some different to all
likes to bleed the
foe
be bled
holding head feinting.

Telling nothing with ears
safty in reach
roped in
with her own hand.

Talking to ease
hearing to talk
playing dead
seriously
mistakes he wont make
again.

Is her tree
safely against him
resting fingers her leaves
tasting testing
for roots sadly laid
upon her ground entwined.