suspended
in a head-wind
held tremblingly still
the taut bow
of your body
poised to a point
arrowed
to a mouse move.
A clean clear curve
downwards,
closer still.
Such control
for the kill –
whatever it is
below you
cannot know
how close death hovers,
balancing on the breath
of unawareness,
the one false move
springing
dark extinction –
that golden stare
fixes on me,
and as I rifle
through my life
it’s there –
neck-breath near.

From Open After Dark, Oversteps, 2017