by Pavel Chichikov
In water's mirror there I saw
The lion sun put down his paw
A white-smeared pug mark on the pond's
Black shining slate, and canter on
Along the grooved ecliptic road
Reflecting heat with every stride
Unhurried yet a hunter fed
With prey devoured in its bed
Now with yellow eyes bent low
Behind the spoor he follows you
Judges how you weaken till
He springs the hour of his kill
Fangs pressed down to pierce your age
The minutes stopped with hemorrhage
The seconds flowing in a rush
Spurt and finish cold and hushed
The heart goes empty, then he moves
His shadow light inside the groove
Long and narrow is his back
The moving sun, a hunting cat
It takes much faith in him to see,
A means of immortality
(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)
