All night our hunger is limitless.
The things that stalk the wood
gnashing teeth, stomachs shrunk
with emptiness, grow desperate.
Past smaller trees, darkness
is a skin, self-possessed, swimming
in blackness like blackness itself,
flames of its eyes like embers,
its red hair changing colors
in the shadows. And what we hunt:
things the soil made and gifted,
a small, tenacious life, a will
to live forevor. As hunter and
the hunted meet with noses heavy
breathing, claws clicking on the stones
the only difference between them-
who will eat and who is eaten.