(I have a series of true story poems, which involve animals confronting the human world. That being said, I doubt I'm keeping this one.)
True Story #4
Tenderness blooms from the pages local newspaper,
in it, a cougar is trapped between houses. It senses fear
from the neighborhood kids who stop their game of
street ball to tell their parents. Tenderness will pounce
on you if cornered, if scared and looking for food.
It cannot think about what might happen if caught,
or worse, but knows on some level this can only end badly.
To be corned in a back alley, to be put down by police officers
not trained to handle anything larger than a pit bull, to not whimper
or fight, lay its capsized body down in its last, ferocious moments
can only be done by something who knows what it means to be tender.