No one is really sure what happened
in that last poem. Was he or she
really that nice? That oblivious?
Or did prey turn destroyer the moment
the manipulative predators tightened
the circle at just the inopportune moment,
some juke, some jaunt, some bold and cruel
and entirely suspect reversal?
Torn to pieces, all of them! In some grisly
ballet, moving in slow motion as if underwater
and breathing adrenaline? We can't gloat
or revel in that - it was horrible what happened
to them, or might have. On the other hand,
for all we know, it was no act. And
who was torn apart then? Nobody
knows. No one
is really sure
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