In Praise of Prey

By LESLIE MCGRATH

 

The rhythm of predation is a sine wave.

Between predator and prey it winds

 

like a whip-crack in slow motion.

The time has come to praise the prey

 

who fill the guts of the never-satisfied

for whom winning is all, and nothing.

 

Praise the squeak and the telling tremble.

Praise their begging and their shame.

 

Praise their jugular fullness, the sweet red pulse

the ever-open spigot of their submission.

 

Let go the lamentations. Let go the pity.

 

All hail the awkward and the addlebrained

the boneheaded, the broken-down, the bonkers.

 

All hail the cracked and the cuckoo

the lame, the lunatic, and the losers.

 

Here’s to the nutjobs, the spastic

the peculiar and the outcasts.

 

For them, the wedgie and the booby prize

the tar, the feathers and the narrow rail.

 

Tip your jaw and let praise fall for prey.

History is written on the vellum of their bellies.

 

 

Leslie McGrath is the author of Opulent Hunger, Opulent Rage, a poetry collection, and the forthcoming Out From the Pleiades: a picaresque novella in verse. 

Listen to Leslie McGrath and Valerie Duff discuss “In Praise of Prey” on our Contributors in Conversation podcast.

[Click here to purchase your copy of Issue 07]

In Praise of Prey

Related Posts

Leila Chatti

My Sentimental Afternoon

LEILA CHATTI
Around me, the stubborn trees. Here / I was sad and not sad, I looked up / at a caravan of clouds. Will you ever / speak to me again, beyond / my nightly resurrections? My desire / displaces, is displaced. / The sun unrolls black shadows / which halve me. I stand.

picture of dog laying on the ground, taken by bfishadow in flickr

Call and Response

TREY MOODY
My grandmother likes to tell me dogs / understand everything you say, they just can’t / say anything back. We’re eating spaghetti / while I visit from far away. My grandmother / just turned ninety-four and tells me dogs / understand everything you say. / They just can’t say anything back.