The Old Tiger

who are you?
you asked

I am the old tiger
satin fur
sliding in and between and through the bamboo
your delicate skull beneath these killer's claws
holding captive the thoughts you refuse to reveal to us
such an interested audience
bent on loving you
on destroying you
on setting your mind as free as the blood that runs like rivers
   through this broken land
now soft claws padding across your night-time lawn
I watch you take your clothes off
holding your breasts in your tiny hands for the mirror
treating your skin in such a sexless way I find absolutely
palatable

tap-dancing along the shaft of the hunter's arrow
in the shade of gum-gum trees
where monkeys glide through jailhouse bars of moonlight
singing
hallelujah
hallelujah
the ol' tiger still has his stripes

it could have been any soul

wearing that skin like a blanket
crossing wooden fences after midnight
to steal through stranger's backyards
stepping among the intimate ensemble of their private lives
catching you in the glass
my firefly
in the bent crease of those dusty fading vinyl blinds

an opulent songbird snatched from her perch by the old tiger
on the prowl for perfect things
to feast
to sleep
by God this old man must eat!

and you've got the bones best gnawed on.

TA