Tiger

She lay in the grass,
eyes milk white,
tongue swollen purple.
Her frozen limbs fought the air,
though it was the fence,
her chokehold beneath,
that killed her.

The dog, cat and I
hovered beside the hole
where she curled asleep
in a cardboard box.
Soil drummed upon the lid
as four jet fighters
flew overhead
and split the sky.

Tonight, we lie sleepless
and hold our breath for quiet,
aching for her claws
to scrape beneath
the bedroom door.

Scott Speck
07/10/99