What’s Left Of A Wildcat Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
What’s Left Of A Wildcat
Wildcat caught
in the spotlight
of the poem
eyes staring anger
at me blind
behind light.
Now on his face a grin
(of pain?)
as under the aim
of my intent
his body’s ripped
to syllables.
Is the head
(rigid, lifeless,
still
grinning)
worth mounting on paper
walls of my world?
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: metaphysical
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5/1/2024 3:14:35 AM # 1.0.0.1119
