Circling the victim


The warm fire was my jumping off point.
I stood near
wondering if only I noticed,
how near.

I circled and moved in,
slowly but surely
for the kill.

I knew what ways to turn interest
toward me.

But though he seemed perhaps normal,
the boy was strange.

I know strange,
I was better equipped to handle the boy,
than the man,

though it was the man I circled,
truly.

Not ready,
knowing I was not,
still...

I circled and turned
and weaved a web to capture his interest.

To what end.

Only to soothe my damaged soul.
To practice an art
I thought I'd lost.

To see if I could,
if he would,

fall

into the spiral I was turning.

To what end?

None whatsoever.

Satisfaction?

Some.
Perversely so.