by Simon Jackson
It is sleek, well groomed,
it has a black gloss to its fur
as it purrs out assurances,
rubs itself lovingly against the doorway
in its throat the sound of a thousand engines.
It extends a velvet paw to guests,
leaps barriers, eliciting gasps of admiration
at the agile power in its body,
its limbs a well rehearsed orchestra.
A rough tongue licks fur into line:
clean, ordered, presentable.
At night it shows another side
stalking the streets to tear the roofs
off smaller creatures' dwellings,
claws extended to fish out prey
it toys with them, maims, feigns disinterest, releases
only to pounce once more.
The morning comes and it purrs reassurances,
its throat thick with blood.
Simon Jackson lives in Edinburgh. He has been a journalist, teacher, musician and director of Living Arts Space Theatre Company. His poetry is published internationally and translated into several languages. He has had more than twenty plays performed and won several awards including British Gas Young Playwright of the Year, The Grace Dieux Writers' Prize 2009 and The Writers Bureau Poetry Award 2010. He is currently working with Billy Bragg on a music video and his series of short films based on Scottish poems have been used by the BBC and shown in Film Festivals around the world.
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