Marilyn Humbert
On the banks of the Manning
a sea eagle high in the conifer
balances on a bare branch
shreds and devours
its writhing catch.
Scales, bones, entrails.
My hands deep in my pockets,
not like early days of love
when you gripped my fist
fingers entwined
as your lips claimed me
feeding fervour
eddying together.
Now beside the lazy lap of ripples
depleted and ravenous
our shadows back to back
I wonder how long
until you fly away
to sate your hunger.
