You’re lost if you steer.
How did you get here?
Leopard, that smell in the air.
Leopard, that spoor at your feet.
Your knots unfurled into a sail
and you tacked into a high colour
green.
The leopard coughs from the horizon
you head for her throat.
She’s beautiful.
A roar of sea, a roar of fur
you can look at her
you can look at anything.
A whiplash of tail
as she looks at you.
She’s so dangerous;
immense,
she takes your trembling measure
her eyes smoke
your eyes close
you want the cuff of her paw
you dream
of her weight on your chest.
She doesn’t move.
A lush silence
spreads from her stare.
Her breath in your face.
She shapes you
sharp as light.
You don’t swoon.
Picture by Arthur Wardle/ Public Domain: A Satyr resting with Leopards