Panther by night

A caged panther, he stalks, tail slashing violently.
Through the shadowed depths he paces,
forward and back, forward and back,
turning to snarl and slash those diamond fangs
at the hand that seeks to soothe his restless fur,
glinting sharply in the dark.

Dangerous in the dark.

Golden eyes gleam, heavy-lidded with
pain, impotent anger,
a never-ending cycle of frustration, hunger and doubt.
I watch him cautiously as his incessant circling draws narrower,
an inward spiral, ever deepening,
darkening –
then broadens without warning, widens,
as he winds about my slender legs,
drawing his monstrous jaw down the slope of my forearm,
caressingly, deceptively gentle.
I have seen his teeth, heard his rumbling purr darken
to a warning growl,
felt the touch of those curved ivory claws, deadly
and exquisitely beautiful –
and still I cannot draw away.
Fingers twining in his velvet coat, I fall to my knees
and bury my face in his burning warmth,
his animal scent (sharp, primal) and panted breaths
bathing my skin with danger and desire.

Darkness and danger and desire.

For moments he allows it, indulging in my touch
with a sensuous arch against my grasping hands –
then, as mercury through the fingers, he changes again,
rounding on me with upraised paw before bounding away.
The proud, noble head tilts to the sky, and his cry is pain
made sound, made liquid, washing over me in a tide
darker than the thin beads welling as crimson teardrops –
only in this way can I cry with him.

I do not fear him as I should.

Lashing out again, he retreats,
all bristling fur and snarling jaws,
to resume his endless pacing, circling –
treading the same steps over and over
until his flanks heave with exhaustion and
the pads of his feet run wet with blood.
I sit, content to wait,
knowing that the cage is only in his mind, and
if I am still enough, patient enough,
and show no fear, eventually
he may return to me in the dark.

AMH
31 March 2005