National Poetry Month: Day #5

I recall that I'd been reading Neil Gaiman a lot back when I started writing these poems. I'm not certain what effect that had on my own writing, but I do remember that this poem came straight from a dream I had after reading the story "Baywolf" in his collection Smoke and Mirrors. It's the very first one from April 1, 2000:

Familiars

We've been here before,
you and I, but then
we didn't look like this,
bottled up in sacks of pale
pink flesh
like a couple of tender
underbellies ready to be torn
apart.

I've smelled this air before,
this crisp and prickling
scent of something
frightened, vulnerable,
and delicious
cowering low
just out of sight.

You caught it too,
and pricked your ears
then twitched your bushy
tail a time or two
so I would know
your appetite.

In unison then
like currents deviating
in a stream
you swept in left on silent
paws while I, so quick,
so ravenous, descended
from the right
to seize
the prize.

After, we lay
sated and savoring success
still on our muzzles
as moonlight bathed us
blue and breezes
sang our remorseless lullaby
through the trees.

©2000 L.A. Smith.