The Hunter

Once again London has me in her vice-like grip
chained
tethered
captive
caught in the bright lights
still as a deer
but not doe like at all.

You see I to am ready to strike
cobra like
poised
prepared
she thinks she's got me
bunny rabbit ears and all
all a quiver,
but who is the hunter here?

I'm coiled
tensed
can you feel my heart beating
this isn't fear
and I can't blame the coffee
today
the thrill
the chase
who is the hunter here?

This is the loaded gun
steel glinting in the long shaddows of the
summer evening's sun.

Waiting,
waiting for the final act

hunter or hunted
the gunpowder is packed

ready to shatter
the still calm silence,
penetrate.

The hunter has waited
long enough.