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My breath’s the wind’s breathless down-stroke hasty claw like the gnarred finger of juniper just now clambering for a scrap of your cloak or your flimsy cloak of skin  I’m the sniper’s impossible hyperbola, the hunter’s parable of tempered skill Know me by my fidelity to accuracy and woodlands, my barred tail, an infidel’s fast-day taste for flesh Indelible as the mind’s shadow, I move as you move am clothed as you’re clothed: pine’s needle- point etching the borders of  our separate selves Predator, prey Trying to be anything less feeble than what you are makes you instinct’s cuckold Strike and be struck Hold, hold and behold