JAGUAR <br /> <br />Nasal intonations of light and clicking tongues… publicity of windows stoning me with pent-up cries… smells of abattoirs… smells of long-dead meat. <br /> <br />Some day-end— while the sand is yet cozy as a blanket off the warm body of a squaw, and the jaguars are out to kill… with a blue-black night coming on and a painted cloud stalking the first star— I shall go alone into the Silence… the coiled Silence… where a cry can run only a little way and waver and dwindle and be lost. <br /> <br /> And there… <br /> where tiny antlers clinch and strain <br /> as life grapples in a million avid points, <br /> and threshing things <br /> strike and die, <br /> letting their hate live on <br /> in the spreading purple of a wound… <br /> I too <br /> will make covert of a crevice in the night, <br /> and turn and watch… <br /> nose at the cleft's edge.<br /><br />Lola Ridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/monologues/
