Animal Instinct
She sees their bushy tails from the top of our hill
as I open the back door. She runs
until her black legs cannot keep pace with her front ones.
Her dash becomes an entertaining prance.
I watch knowing the squirrels always make it to the trees.
We all know her daily dame, but instinct spreads--
birds become a part of her war games.
They're slower to take off to the nearest tree,
sometimes waiting until she is close enough
to really see them, their beady eyes like stiff buttons
fastened to her. Other times they flee
sooner, not willing to risk life.
A young swallow beats it's wings,
but does not fly. She stops her prance,
becomes determined. The base of her paws slowly
touch the ground, giving each moment to feel
the pricks of grass and tree debris. She lowers her stomach
and stops her tail from it's methodic beating
before she spurts toward the swallow, forcing the bird
inside her mouth. I holler for her to drop it
as her neck swats from side to side. Being obedient,
she releases and begins to walk up the hill
like a soldier's flight home from war,
waiting in Germany for the second leg of his trip.
Like the look on his spouse's face
when she realizes that instinct changes everything.
as I open the back door. She runs
until her black legs cannot keep pace with her front ones.
Her dash becomes an entertaining prance.
I watch knowing the squirrels always make it to the trees.
We all know her daily dame, but instinct spreads--
birds become a part of her war games.
They're slower to take off to the nearest tree,
sometimes waiting until she is close enough
to really see them, their beady eyes like stiff buttons
fastened to her. Other times they flee
sooner, not willing to risk life.
A young swallow beats it's wings,
but does not fly. She stops her prance,
becomes determined. The base of her paws slowly
touch the ground, giving each moment to feel
the pricks of grass and tree debris. She lowers her stomach
and stops her tail from it's methodic beating
before she spurts toward the swallow, forcing the bird
inside her mouth. I holler for her to drop it
as her neck swats from side to side. Being obedient,
she releases and begins to walk up the hill
like a soldier's flight home from war,
waiting in Germany for the second leg of his trip.
Like the look on his spouse's face
when she realizes that instinct changes everything.
Kellie Cannon
graduated from Franklin Pierce in 2004. She was a Dance and English major, and after graduation, continued her studies and received her MFA in Creative Writing at Emerson College in Boston, MA. She is currently living in Jacksonville, NC, where she teaches composition and literature at Coastal Carolina Community College. Her poetry has previously appeared in Enounce, Ballard Street Poetry, Tapestry, Kennesaw Review, and WordRiot.