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THE HUNT
that wild
			returned
exept to die
			amidst the Genetics
			that put it there

all senseless
			fury
with no reason or rhyme
as a blink in the blackness - -

like a hole in Divine.

So a life is extinguished
			in the real games men play

the cost of fur
across this blanket of barren land

	echoes the stillness of loss
	to yet unborn heirs
	never to regain

who will discover in
the crippled twilight

			when all is too late

that a specie became a pawn
in a sport bred from hate

and that wild returned,
ironically,

			but to disintegrate.


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