The Predator's Lament

by Moe Russ

Oh! for the taste of

Fresh flesh rising:
Voiceless, passing, pressing of fresh flesh rising.
The bottom of being, skimming along the surface of
Fresh flesh rising.
Lost to the small hushed crushed hurried flurry of
Fresh flesh rising.
miniaturized in this,

minimized in this, compromised,
faithless desperation.
Reaching to find release – for the moment
from the broken ache,
caged aloneness.
Flesh rising and falling

Without support of

Whole, unbounded, elevated spirit.
Whole, unbounded, spirit whispers gently,
“You are full of know-better”.
Outside the gift of exchange,
Infinity has been suffering
From technical difficulties.