Poetry

In the veldt were impalas, some oribi
and kudus roam around wild  
a cheetah sneaks forward merciless
without even the zebras noticing
 
and when they rush away bewildered at speed,
when a cloud of dust rise in their mad run
it’s as if his feet get wings
as if he rushes forward much faster
 
and suddenly catches up with a animal that he has chosen,
drags it down to the ground
and then the jaws of the hunter close like steel
while the other game mill around in a hundred fold.