Near the mouth of the den
at the end of acres
Fur-scattered rug of snow
Doored the entrance to
the blood-stinking lair
The kill had been plain.
Snowshoes stopped in
tandem, our breath hot on the air
They were still
there… spirit-sneaking about
us with their
Hot-kill energy, sparking
crystal-lights of fire
In the fine, blood-misted
snow.
We read the story, …slowly tracking the deep-dots of
Prints struck hard
against the ice
Deep-melted in the
dark-rooted soil
Marks of shiny-struggle
and the deer’s last day.
She slowly going down
like the final sun
Loathe to give up her
last beating-breath
Heart in her mouth, eyes
shedding fear
Other eyes lacing hers
from across the creek
Glitter of life within,
tenderly walking towards her closing cry.
The pack had taken her in
bits and in pieces, yipping and yowling
A bone-chilling-kill in
the soft-falling night, dusk-settling
Daring to pierce her
flesh, rip her sweet, mottled hide
Red-blood drip-spotting
first the blaring whiteness of snow
Misting the
glitter-prints of coyote paw, desperate heaving- hoofs
Patterning the
killing-field with her last effort to cling
Where life had given
dawn, and frolic, and saucy dance.
The going down was long…
her struggle brave and valiant
She did not give her life
freely, but death was her gift in the end.
The slayers slumber with
shiny, blood-glistened tongues
Hot blood-breath against
the darkness now deep and black
The pack lies silent in
succulence, bellies full
Beside the carcass left
alone in bone-brittle defiance
She passed on to a better
dream, whole and full and finished.
Killers seamed in survival-flesh
beneath blood-smeared fur
Living inside the
wolf-wisdom of ancestors lurking in the past
Cunning and clever, each
pup full-tummied against fertile female
Alpha-dreams dance in the
hot-bellied den, dawn seeking another day.
cailin raine
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