Death As Specimen

Cindy, why do you think so often of Death?

Because it circles
like a pack of wolves,
and paces me like
a famished tiger.

I must know how it thinks
if I’m to reason with it.
I will know it by its
wooden footfall.
I will recognize its
granite skin and wicked
laughter.

I will learn all of its names
and the names of its children.
I’ll become familiar with its
scent in mere traces.

One day, if I’ve studied well,
I will have that thing’s belly—
bleeding from my victorious jaws—
foe or friend, vanquished all the same.

--Cindy St. Onge
March 12, 2006