In those evenings by a red sea
I would often gaze west
and see the tiger’s eye
staring over its den of desert hills
...
Thirty six years of a summer sun
have faded the gloss of fishing boats
...
The sky is liquorice black
its stars are simply stars
its air as cold as it’s over
...
She could
without even trying
hold a star in the palm of her hand
and with just a touch more imagination
...
Tiger Sunset
In those evenings by a red sea
I would often gaze west
and see the tiger’s eye
staring over its den of desert hills
a single life in its predatory stare,
I remember thinking
as those nights each fell away
‘it really is a beautiful world’
or
‘today you did not get me, go feed on the flesh
and the thoughts of another’s sin’
while sometimes, I would just stare
or make wishes or promises
to all those once cool cats;
as it left for distant cities
it seemed to wink at a man’s imagination
but what I couldn’t see behind me
was the faint claw of a moon
piercing the huge cage of black
I always thought of as protection;
a tiger is still a tiger
while it sleeps
or when it roars.