The forepaw
lands softly on the wet ground.
The crackle
echoes through hushed corners.
Her ears twitch,
the muscles in her legs tighten.
The monkeys holler like wailing widows,
a thousand wings take flight.
The crickets, like awed spectators, hush each other,
a lone scorpion
scurries into the decaying mulch.
The teeth sink deeper
into her pulsing throat.
Warm blood gushes
and splatters
over the striped coat.
Her bright eyes
hold the frozen wonder
of a starlit night.
The bleating is silenced
in the bellows and hollows
of a ravenous,
all-consuming hunger.
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