Mary Hill
Inspiration piece
The Innocence of Predation
By Bauke Kamstra
Response
Scales fine as green tattoos
littered
with staring eyes
blue as the high thin
fish teeth
skritching stripes from bone
white and cold as the strait
when it tries to freeze.
Prey loves the ravening gift they make
to silver needles
flushed red on red tastes.
Fish stretched fat from either side
tarnished coins with spots
then turned to a thin wedge
in a grudging light
impeded by increasing gloom
edge on slivers shine gold
as a drowned doubloon.
Prizes close-clutched in water leaps
to precipitous rocks
tails flipped up in precise imitations of gulls.
Naked as the round skeletons
of the island’s few
winter trees
amber-tipped brazen breasts
stare at men’s eyes
an allure of siren cries
they un-man the stable mental lines
so long lashed to stone
their wet-flow words
tugging trickling shivers
down to the belly and groin.
These words are not found in books
they are sinuously delivered
from ridged lips
missing the ears
penetrating cores
hot liquor from a cold flask.
How I loved them.
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