Deck door creaks, then squishes closed.
Ankle’s eye view is all that’s granted as,
slipshod, slipper-shod, he shuffles over.
Tonight? We’ll see.

Hooded yet, I feel the tickle of mouse feet,
signaling its leaving, its leavings
a part of once and future meals.
Unseen? We’ll see.

Undraped now, I stretch, yawn, maw wide.
Fresh fuel courses the chill and empty veins.
I hiss, bleed briefly; then spark fully awake.
Warming to task.

Steel marrowed bones, unkempt, charred black
from too much use, too little care,
prepare my brand, sear stripe.
Bar-B!

Pale, pink pocked, round, and soft,
they arrive — my evening’s guests.
Smooth skin now scarred, scorched.
Lethally? We’ll see.

Marked, I bid them ‘adieu’. Innocents no more.