a true mess it is
the ridiculous irony
manhunts
and suicide bombers
he looked out over the ridge
dust in the distance
could be a thousand things
jackrabbit dinner
a tree falling silently
he imagined a lone predator
stalking the river beds
her baby girls sleeping on the bank
eyes the prey
looks it over for a while
knowing every inch of the destined
she manipulates and moves slow
heart's at half speed
suddenly a burst
noises of the fierce and dying
a final and merciful grip
blood runs cold
another day for the ladies.
