in her a kind of
feral sexuality blooms,
a predatory flush of cheeks and lips
that catches his eyes,
whenever he glances past her.
a potency so obvious
it becomes unattractive, it becomes
more definition than trait:
as he brushes past her,
he senses patience
and hunger, a prowling faith
in the waiting game.
he knows she will never move,
as long as he stands still;
he knows she will tear him to pieces
as soon as he flinches.