The Cut

I see full lines, track lines, parallel lines
where the fast furious light cuts my patch in two.
With berry-stained paws and diamond eyes,
I walk where no man can.

I hear the click, the crunch, the snap
where trespassers breathe fire in hushed huddles.
With cold jaw and electric fur,
I hide where no man can.

I smell dead meat, car heat and human feet
where the dark light always rattles and hums.
With eager heart and pulsing blood,
I eat what no man can.

Marky B