La Selva (revised)

  

La Selva

There's a grove of white oaks near a dry creek.

Heat rises in my body when I think of it,

the perfect place to die.

It's my favorite kind of play,

I have found him before he found me.

The hunter.

His desperate words fall until skin shows.

I growl,

Low like a warning

Enough to break his countenance...

He raises his gun

this is what he came for

my skin...

the prize of my pelt.

From behind,

I wrap myself around him.

My stripes hypnotizes him.

My skin caresses him and he melts into me

I wet his neck with my tongue,

Oh, to finally taste his salt, so tenderly.

Slowly I sink my teeth into him,

enough to make the blood come.

Now I am tied to him.

His sweat, made for me.

Pressed against the white oaks,

bleeding my back with every push to the base as he pushes back into me.

Helpless hunter.

His pushes are nothing,

and they only make me more hungry,

my appetite swells.

Breathing deeply, savoring his taste,

the dust settling on the wet of my mantle.

I have ended him,

And the katydid cries with me as I water the thirsty creek bed with my last breath of love.