Panthers Took My Thighs

I am alive, because I can see, but I’m barely moving.

The only movement there is: hands that want to feel

and eyes that search for eyes with light as real and

gentle enough that darkness does not shy away, but

lets the night know she’ll be back. A light as proving

there’s adventure beyond what my dreams reveal

of a world that uninvited all dreamers to let all those

fit for touch bathe in golden sand like little sparrows

wings so heavy they have no dreams of flying that

lost their nightmares; at least when I wake up I

wake up screaming, where the birds used to sing

cats grow fat with easier food, while I realize that

I will not be eaten, there are panthers in my room

they’re standing on their hind legs, and I know that

I am alive, and they can see me, I’m not moving

the shadows each took their share of my thighs.