The Return of Guinivere
She took in the scene,
face cinder-block hard,
eyes blinking like
mad, black turn signals.
“Who is she?”
As if he had something
to explain. He didn’t,
did he? Yet his voice was
right beside my ear,
Bree.
I swear I saw her claws
spring out. I froze, prey.
She told me her name was
Lince. Then translated,
“Lynx.”
She had claimed her territory.
I decided to let the wildcats
play, uninterrupted. His warm
hand whispered against mine.
See you soon.
His promise fell,
soft as a premonition,
followed by the bobcat’s
predatory growl,
“Me too.”
That’ll Teach Me
to spy
to moan
to covet