parable

she always keeps
the room dark,
calls it her “cave.”

i am perfectly still
as i watch her
dangle the mouse by its tail.

a pair of iridescent eyes
patiently trace the descent
from below.

the blur of fangs,
a whip crack,
and the shuffling of wood chips.

the mouse convulses,
mouths an unheard scream,
and then is still.

jaws unhinge to accommodate
the meal, sliding, still alive,
into a warm, black space.

i can barely see her
smiling at me
in the dimly lit room;

smiling at her mouse.