BLOODY CLAWS

Sitting alone--as always--and brooding in a bar

I saw suddenly at a table nearby where I sat,

Through a cloudy mist of whiskey that swirled before my eyes and roared--

As the maddened wind roars through a tunnel--loudly

And with passion in my ears,

A huge black panther and a great white beast of some unknown killer's breed.

The panther's great white paw was draped across the white beast's back,
And I could see with fearful sharpness through the whiskey mist

The panther's bloody claws, arched for tearing flesh,

Raking, digging deeply into the white beast's back.

And I looked around the barroom through the thick gray smoke of cigarets,

Through the reverberating screaming of the juke-box,

To see if any other drunks had seen this thing of which I was afraid--

But no one else had seen. And so I said, "You're made, you fool!--

"Or else you're only drunk."

And I watched this insane drama unfold before my lying eyes.

The panther's great white face was toward me.

(I could not see the white beast's face.)

And the juke-box screamed with agony

As some sadist thrust a piece of metal in its guts.

The panther's mouth was bloody, and its yellow eyes

Stared down unblinking and without emotion into the white beast's face.

I could not see. The bell was from the white beast's face, I guessed.

And now and then the white beast or the panther would slowly turn away

2

And lift a glass of amber beer and drain it.

And all the time the great arched paw, the bloody claws
Were stroking, taking, digging, twisting at the white beast's back.

I sat struck dumb, excited and afraid, and watched.

I could not tear my eyes away.

I watched the panther suck the white beast's life, its soul, away.

I was amazed because the white beast did not know.

I watched giant muscles ripple beneath the tight white skin that stretched

Across the white beast's back, as it fought back hard against the panther
The white beast, thinking it was winning,
know
Did not/that it was dying--and could not hope to win.

The white beast could not see that the panther, as it smiled
And licked its bloody lips, had turned that very confidence about
And was using that triumphant faith as a weapon
With which to hasten its defeat.

And so the white beast struggled on not knowing
It had been defeated from the start.

And the panther blinked its yellow eyes and knowing its heart smiled
Its bloody lips, and, knowing it had won, leaned calmly down
To suck from out the white beast's face
The last remaining drop of blood, the last small atom
Of the white beast's soul.

I shuddered, turned away. I drain my glass,

3

Because I could not stand to see: unknown defeat
Is worse than conscious victory. I knew the pain
Of seeing things that should not be, but things no man can change.
And then the vision disappeared; a voice spoke loudly
From the bellyx of the juke-box:
"YOU HAVE SEEN--NOW UNDERSTAND!"

And so I looked again--and pain, laughing with a twisted mouth,
Reached out and took me by the ears and banged my head
Against the wall until I could not see.
For where I had seen a panther sat a woman,
And the bloody mouth was hers--scarlet lipstick in the place
Of what I thought was blood--the huge white paw her hand,
The bloody claws her fingernails dyed red.
And, of course, the white beast was a man--
In a sailor's tightly fitting uniform of white.

BLOODY CLAWS

Sitting alone--as always--and brooding in a bar,
I saw suddenly at a table nearby where I sat,
Through a cloudy mdest of whiskey that swirled before my eyes and roared--
As the maddened wind roars through a tunnel-loudly
And with passion in my ears,
A huge black panther and a great white beast of some unknown killer's breed,
The panther's skx great white paw was draped across thw white beast's back,
And I could see with fearful sharpness through the whiskey mist
The panther's bloody claws, arched for rearing flesh,
Baking digging deeply into the white beast's back.
And I looked around the barroom through the thick, grey smoke of cigarets,
Through the reverberating screaming of the juke-box,
To see if any other drunks had seen this thing of which I was afraid--
But no one else had seen. And so I said, "You're mad, you fool!--
"Or else you're only drunk."
And I watched this insane drama unfold before my lying eyes.

The panther's great white face was toward me.
(I could not see the white beast's face.)
And the juke-box screamed with agony
As some sadist thrust a piece of metal in its guts.
The panther's mouth was bloody, and its yellow eyes
Stared down unblinking and without emotion into the white beast's face
I could not see. The blood was from the white beast's face, I guessed.
And now and then the white beast or the panther would slowly turn away
And lift a glass of amber beer and drain it.
And all the time the great arched paw, the bloody claws
Were stroking, taking, digging, twisting at the white beast's back.

I sat struck dumb, excited and afraid, and watched.
I could not tear my eyes away.
I watched the panther suck the white beast's life, its soul, away.
I was amazed because the white beast did not know.
I watched giant muscles ripple beneath the tight white skin that stretched
Across the white beast's back, as it fought back hard against the panther.
The white beast, thinking it was winning,
Did not know that it was dying--and could not hope to win.
The white beast could not see that the panther, as it smiled
And licked its bloody lips, had turned that very confidence about
And was using that triumphant faith as a weapon
With which to hasten its defeat.
And so the white beast strugleed on not knowing
It had been defeated from the start.
And the panther blinked its yellow eyes and smiled
Its bloody lips, and, knowing it had won, leaned calmly down
To suck from out the white beast's face
The last remaining drop of blood, the last small atom
Of the white beast's soul.

I shuddered, turned away. I drained my glass.
Because I could not stand to see: unknown defeat
Is worse than conscious victory. I knew the oan
Of seeing things that should not be, but things no man can change.