Unleaping
He lies there in a leap, or so it seems.
He lies there on the bed as if propelled
In hunting. Maybe in his twitching dreams
He saw a mouse or bird and felt compelled
To grasp it in those whitest sleepy paws
Though in a dream they couldn’t really grab
Since they were mental only. Dreamy claws
Are also useless if he really wants to nab
Flicked wings and fur and torture victims’ nerves.
A dream is not required to offer meat
And guts, reality. Instead it serves
Up calmest lunges lacking bloody heat.
The duvet is the mildest color green.
It seems opposed to dozing slaughter’s scene.
~ Phillip Whidden