Witness

As mean as any howling cur, that’s him

an’ I seen what he done to her,

that one we thought the sweetest thing

who refused his plea to be his wife,

an’ he as mad as hell, he slapped her hard

an’ screaming to the floor she fell. 

An’ he with keenest butchers eye

took hand his favoured sharpest knife

an’ plunged it deep in t'cavity

where we thought her beating heart would be.  

An’ to our horror ‘twas just a stone

laying cold an’ hard twixt flesh an’ bone

an’ she with the wildest eyes I’ve ever known

let out this god-awful ear piercing moan,

grabbed at his knife and stabbed at him,

stabbed at him ‘til she could stab no more,

then curled back her lips an’ ate him raw. 

Me master gone then she turned on me,

you’re next she screeched an’ tried to cut me up

an’ I bit her hard an’ she lost her grip

an’ I took a chance and fled as fast can be. 

An’ courage now almost drained from me

I hide quivering whimpering like some discarded pup,

hoping life be bled from me an’ I be long dead and gone

‘fore she finds my scent ‘fore she hounds me out 
'fore she curls back her lips and eats me up.

Anna :o]

This gruesome tale (which still requires a bit of tinkering) was inspired by the image provided by Tess at The Mag.  Also entered at The Poetry Pantry at Poets United, kindly hosted by Mary; thanks Tess and Mary!