tiger’s bride

by riverwilding

I went looking for the moon and I found you,

a tiger’s bride holding her shotgun ready, steady,

pretty in your damage stripes.

You said you met him on the asphalt, could smell

his cologne and leather from the tree-tops.

And when she straightened his tie, as the helicopter

ascended, you aimed, you did not miss.

You are no patriarch’s mistress.