The tiger, he still watches me, I can almost
hear him breathe - should I have shot him that
very first time, cut his whiskers, to show off
in town? - now he paces, circling around me,
almost lazy, sure of his kill
for I am pinned down by his keen, yellow-eyed
intention, - or is it danger's fascination?
when the sirens will finally go off, it will
be too late, - only my sandals shall be found in
the tall grasses, by the pond
It shall be a summer day - friends will bring
flowers, and everyone will say: what love, how
great a passion had they!
and in the Zoo where they shall bring him,
Tiger, will become a children's pet,...
Nomi Ben-David
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