Happy National Poetry Month

THE LYNX

The lynx emerges
from hiding
to track the white
snowshoe hare;
the chase that began
with a scent
ends in technicolor violence,
her fur sheared open
by fang and claw
steaming innards spilled out
beside her
like the contents of plastic shopping bags
she succumbs in silence
a finale
without protest.

The 'hungry and homeless' man
whose sign asks for change
is as static as a still life
if he was ever alive
and dies before
a much larger
unmoved audience.