Metaphorium (The Leopard)

  Once – before my joints
           began reminding me of time –
                     on a powdery slope where I’d
                            given up hope of communion
                  with a certain Good Shepherd  
                                 I found myself facing
                     a pale hungry leopard;
             lean and almost as white
                as snow – yet
                          it was impossible
          not to know we wouldn’t be two –
               true gods or no –  to limp away
                       –  to live to tell –
                               beyond that day

         Now silence suits some modest victories
                    and I’d never spoken
           of the kill –  that is,  you understand –
until ten thousand degenerate locusts
    descended – and my intended humility
              abrubtly ended  – because, in fact,
                             the damage inflicted –
          debilitating harm caused by the swarm –
                             has,  you see, never quite mended.

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whatever this started out as, I think it may have ended up being
a confession of peevish vanity !

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