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I glimpse the tiger,
as I run away,
now closer.
now further.
The tiger sleeps while I work.
Knowing always the tiger,
Hear his growl.
now thunder.
now silence.
His hot panting,
in my veins,
His diamond eyes burning in the night
of my mind, refusing daylight,
in furious denial,
to find a loophole, and escape the tiger
and escape my fire
escape his warm soft fur against my skin
escape desire - the feel of his sleek muscular body
Escape his eyes glimpsed from beind mirrored shades
The tiger, the man, knowledge, pursuit
woven in glass, spinning, perched
All energy
all joy/anger/desire spent in running,
running from the tiger.
And then to softly ask for help.
tripping the tiger has me.
I have the tiger.
His claws slice through me,
through my disquises,
leaving me naked,
to myself.
swanson@msc.cornell.edu (Andrew Swanson)
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