Home > Poetry > A Hunter’s Moon

A Hunter’s Moon

Illuminates the edge of the grass just beyond the back porch.

Our female cat, lithe and gray, stalks something so small I can’t make it out in the moonlight.

Her movements are calm and peaceful

but her eyes are fully dilated and determined.

Suddenly she lunges,

catches between her paws, and quickly devours some small insect.

It never saw her coming.

She is a perfect killing machine,

and she is beautiful.

I look at her,

trying to tell her with my eyes,

I too was once a hunter,

she looks at me,

derisively,

putting me in my place.

I take a sip of beer,

and wonder what might have been, in a different time and place,

then I dutifully flip the vegan burgers on my grill,

but all the time I’m thinking,

No one painted blackberry bushes in the caves of Lascaux.

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Categories: Poetry
  1. June 6, 2010 at 10:54 pm

    Wow, what a great ending line there. Love the title too. Great job, again!!!

  2. June 7, 2010 at 12:08 am

    This is totally terrific! I love it –

  3. June 7, 2010 at 12:32 am

    a great image there at the end … about how what history records, what sustains ancestors … nice!

  4. June 8, 2010 at 1:26 pm

    Wow. Just wow. But, all cats look at humans with disdain, no? ha! I loved the poem as a whole, but “trying to tell her with my eyes, /I too was once a hunter” was so simply succinct that it will stay with me. Thanks!

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