HOLD THAT TIGER

By Chloe Wilson

That morning, in the mirror,
I’d pulled my draping cheek-skin upwards.
I had shone, taut and foreign,
the gums and incisors
glistering with saliva.

While evening and the show crowds gathered,
I watched him. The chain glinked
as he traced his circle,
always stalking - even the grass
shivered under his breath.

Entering the ring, he beckoned
me to dance, laid one
paw on each shoulder
and rolled me in the dirt.

His mouth opened wide
as bedclothes, and I scented
the iron on his tongue
while he hinged his hips

and the crowd thought I was dying.

Tigers like to dine alone.
I knew this; yet stayed a moment
too long, waiting
for an invitation

and was not all that surprised
to find a joint of meat missing
from my thigh.

They hunt by pressing you
to their hearts, then
kicking out your insides
in a casual sweep.

There’s the danger.
Not, after all, in the teeth
but beneath the tail,
which, like a finger,
searches out any pleasures
the front end may have missed.

This one slid
his tongue along the contours
of my bowel,
sniffing like a sommeliier.

That night, he cleaned himself
thoroughly, that supple
tongue spreading like a stingray
under the nails
and detailing the groin;

ignoring the crowd
nobly, as they shook
the metal bars
that keep them safe.

‘Hold That Tiger’ is featured in The Mermaid Problem, Chloe Wilson’s first collection that has been published as part of the APC’s 2010 New Poets Series, more details here.