"Feline"

Watching you,
Feline grace is an understatement.
Grace is a servant in your realm,
Trained to do your bidding,
As are Silence and Power.
Even as you walk,
Sinewy muscles whispering of concealed power,
Your composure is nothing short of absolute.
Like savage royalty,
Prowling her domain,
Queen of all she sees.

Movement in the corner,
And ears twitch in annoyance.
Small, primitive, wholly insignificant,
And yet you are focused completely on it,
All other thoughts temporarily banished from your mind.
Instinct gives its instructions,
And you obey;
Crouch low to the ground,
Reminiscent of your ancestors.
Unblinking eyes, yellow as lamplight,
Act as cold mirrors, barring the way
To your quick, calculating mind.
Your tail twitches convulsively,
As if it weren't simply a part of you
But a thing all its own,
Tense and excited,
As if it, too,
Wanted to rip,
To tear,
To kill-

Limbs tense up, then let go,
And for one brief moment, you are not CAT,
You are Air, and Life,
And teeth and claws and hunger,
You are Death itself,
Striking down your curved blades on whosoever defies you.
And then it is finished-
Crimson life is yours-
And you move on,
Queen of your realm.