The Hunt

With steely eyes set on her target, she draws tight her bow

She hesitates, for fear she’s not skilled enough to make the shot

Her chance is lost. The target slips away

Claimed by the apex predator

She knows she’s missed a clear chance, but she’s not concerned

For now she is content to try another day

*

She sets a trap, patient for her prey to fall

She’s in no hurry, enjoying the chase

This catch is more than willing, doesn’t put up much of a fight

She tenderizes him softly, and bathes him in her sweet marinade

Prepared with love and gentle touch

Surely a feast made in heaven

*

But soon she’s sickened as the bitter taste fills her mouth

The heart is cold and dry, the ribs charred black

No wings for soothing comfort on this beast

She gags on the rancid stench

Of gnarling teeth and razor tongue and horns that slice deep scars

While smiling through those gnarling teeth

*

They say she needs another, to feed her starving heart

But she’s done playing their useless games

She’s done trying to feed a void she doesn’t even feel

Done searching from without

Instead, finding from within

That very taste she’s been missing

*

The only sustenance she really needs

The only nutrients she longs for

Are those that fuel her soul

And they don’t come from the game

They come from her, and she knows it

She’ll never need another catch to complete her

*

Her bow goes down in a blaze of glory

Her rose coloured rifle emptied of its shells

Her traps hang in a decrepit shed

Left to rust with her wasted years of searching

She’s done

Done, with the hunt