Tigers, grizzlies, lynxes do it Poem by Erik Spinoy

Tigers, grizzlies, lynxes do it
differently: a pike's or carp's leap on
or beside it, a deadly flash, a
murderous blow or total catastrophe.

This disoriented north is no
tiger land.
Obstinate and hopeless and chiefly tough
a pack shows up.

In turns they bite
at the nose, the neck, the shoulders.
An elk walks past with its
thighs eaten away, pink bowels
trailing over the ground
until the naked flesh
stiffens, inflames and
loss of blood pays its due.

Then they are at a feast
of blood and bone and sinew.

After which, a wolf's nap later,
the game can start anew,
in search of fresh wounds
doomed to death.

Translation: 2003, Peter Nijmeijer