Maps Of Hell

When I’m down on all fours,
and looking,
looking into a kennel or cage,
I find a pair of luminous eyes
on level terms, close to mine.
They watch me with extraordinary emotion,
and I realise

I’ve met an animal, face to face,
on equal terms, orbs of terracotta red
just inches from mine,
and I realise,

either one of us could be looking into a mirror.
Silence and colossal stillness pauses
between us as I stare at the eyes –
alien and familiar

and looking,
at me as I gaze into the den.
Then there’s a blush between us,
because the beast has to turn.
It turns away, from what it sees,
ashamed, or so it seems, of full recognition.

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Posted on November 3, 2013, in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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