Who is the Prey?
A mouse steps out.
His hunger is unmistakable.
In existence there is danger.
It is unavoidable.
The prevalence of foodstuffs
Cannot be ignored,
It is like the odor of a flower.
Beauty is inherently attractive.
Any movement is opportunity.
He would sleep through a thunderstorm.
When lightning strikes
It is like distant murmurs.
When we see him later
Huddled back beneath the armchair
It is as though he has not stirred,
But the mouse remains are coddled.
They are like one more toy to be fondled.