Inside the living brain,
instinct swims naked.
Don’t try taming its steel;
extend your claws,
anchor your heels,
bang your heart.
Lay your ears flat out
along winter thickened fur,
channeling primal signals
those two-legs have forgotten.
TV birds are only digital images.
Your lust for blood and meat
is older than the written word.
It’s holier than all the demigods,
demigoddesses, saints, and priests.
You were born to dominate
the feathery flying hordes.
Let your sharpest teeth maintain
the avians’ mortal code
by sinking to their vital quick.
Outside; outside; outside!
And into the fight with you,
bravest of the feline heroes.
Bring us back a flightless prize.
•Photo of Nico by Kim | Photo edit by Shawn•
•Shot from my iGun into your bulletproof devices•