i have been a mountain cat for so long,
and decisive: quick claws and an easy heart.
i evade so easily that i have even forgotten
the sound of my own voice.

the hills are always deep enough.
we dredge our sins entirely: vacant cliffs
but full with sound and sky.
i am a predator inside my own skin.

shake loose my preening mouth and look
at my red red tongue: the blood
that pulses, thick, the root
of me keeping sharp company, slavered dreams.

i am not a victim, and never was.
i peel my claws down the bark
of five fresh elms. they bow too
to my weight and insistence.