Hyena Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
Hyena
It stood some distance off.
And stared. We heard it cough.
Thought it was a dog. Then the cringing laugh,
and we all knew well enough.
If dead men dream, the grey lopsided wolf
prowls and terrors them. The stuff
of death is what it feeds on: a huge jaw,
lolloping stump-legged, drags its craw.
Already its cold coward’s eye sees death:
the taste lingers still on its mephitic breath.
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4/26/2024 8:53:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
