Panther

　　by Ned O'Gorman

　　 When the panther came

　　 no belfrey rang alarums，

　　 no cleric spat his tea.

　　 When the panther came

　　 the sky and lawn were still.

　　 The panter came

　　 through forest，

　　 through field，

　　 up to the wall

　　 and my one blossoming cherry tree.

　　 I had constructed

　　 the world as it was

　　 and had pared the body

　　 from the customs of languor.

　　 It pressed its nose against the pane and its gears

　　 ground me away into ribbons

　　 of dissonance.

　　 It turned and sauntered

　　 into the shadows. Its

　　 paw marks on the earth

　　 like cherries too ripe in a white bowl.

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