I recognize
this choking sensation
from the last time she
snuck up on me,
fingers lingering
in caress,
grasping in
greed,
clasping, tightening, crush-until-you-
snap.
You still your senses,
then struggle to heave,
break free, fling away,
drag knees like leper beggar,
clamber inner walls of
moss-lined minds
and dis-engorge your spleen;
but don’t look back
oh don’t look back,
she’s waiting hungrily still.
Sadness, feline predator,
she’s a right jail warden bitch.
Vox populi