Carnivores

Is he watching me?

Faintly steering his neck in the crook of my direction

Is he watching me?

Behind a thick foggy veil of silence that cloaks his steps

Is he watching me?

And the eye in my head is burning

Burning yearning to close its lashes

so I can breathe enough to live

Brave fantasies trickle into my consciousness

Of breaking free from moratorium

And his eyes slipping into his gut where they belong

He stares on.

Or is he watching them?

Greedily lapping up their innocence

While I am idly brushing their hair

Cooking their meals

Tucking them under cotton sheets 

Drapes for burial I fear

Am I digging their graves?

We live in a fortress

But the harpies still glide swiftly nearer

I fear we are their carrion. 

And if not us then who?

Can the hunger for prey 

Ever stop in carnivores?