Posts Tagged ‘tiger’




Easier to keep open the doors of the heart

when a feathery breeze comes through, or

the scent of lavender, or slant of sun. Harder


when a wounded tiger comes in. Of course,

the impulse then is to run it out and close

the doors. Lock them. Barricade and block them.


But now is the time to take those locks

to the second hand store and to pull the chairs

away from the door and place them at the table,


then pour two cups of water. Say grace.

Let the tiger pace. And always, I pace, too.

Of course, I’m afraid it will hurt me.


That’s what wounded tigers do. And when

the inevitable happens, it’s hard to not wish

it were some other way. And it’s tempting


to lock those doors. But when I do, I quickly

note the lack of light in here, I want

for lavender, I rue how very stale the air.


Rather to die by tiger claw than live cut off from love.

Even now the wounds are raw, but oh, the breeze,

it touches them, and how soft it licks at my chest, my cheek.


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There are tigers in the forest.

I used to think I was tame. No one

knows why they are given

a certain task. My task

is to catch the tigers.

We keep each other strong.

My arms are bare. My head

is bare. We stay awake. We prowl.




A friend offers me a bit of something dead.

What is dead is dead, but still I try

to make of it something useful. I tie it

to a ribbon of blue and cast it into the forest.

The tigers do not care for beauty.

The tigers care nothing for what is dead.

It is me that they want.

I stay strong. The tigers stay strong.




I walk closer to the tigers

until we are face to face.

I have nothing to offer them

except for myself. This is all

we ever have to offer.

The tigers follow me now.

Once I thought I was hunter.

Now I see we are all each other’s prey.




There is a room with no windows,

a room with two hidden doors.

I lead the tigers here, though I

have never been here before.

The first door closes behind us

and as the tigers explore

I push on the weight of an inner wall

and slip through an inner door.




Anything tame is a lie.

It is only me that I want

and I will do even that

which I think is impossible.

I do not need a weapon.

I do not need a lure.

I am the wall that I slip through.

I am the hidden door.


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