a caterwauling to the gods
(cat-gods and tigers of that blood)
the animal trip-trigger yell
in raw extremity—fanged to
the flesh, to tears. She hated.
The snarls drew her bared teeth down tight;
her flashlight shivering along
the hurried fences, she hated.
She heard it stop, like breath cut off.
Then yelp and blow, and blow and yelp,
bay-howl for mercy. Were the thuds
a stick, or fist, against the hide?
To the back porch screaming, she clawed
into the dark from her black watch.
Stop that Stop it Stop Stop Stop
And like an echo a frightened,
woman’s voice far on the spot
injected in the blows stop it.
A thrashing silent storm
above the night:
above eviscerated cat,
unconscious dog, self-sickened man
and vicious self.
She had a nameless pressing pain-
a shooting pain in wrist.
of earth made after his own kind—
made beast, made lurching prey, made
fatal shots that missed.