You cannot change your spots,
you’ve never been a lion but a leopard,
never hunting in broad daylight
but always cloaked
in those black shadows of the night.
No matter decades separating you
from the subterfuge of stealth –
you haven’t lost your touch.
Your care in felling game does not extend
to felling members of your species.
You brought me down with no straight shot;
no clean kill here.
You hid, concealed, camouflaged
in a dark jungle of half-truths and bullshit.
And when it served your purpose,
when you finally decided I had to die,
what did you fashion but a maze?
You set a coward’s snare that only I could trip,
ensuring the delivery of that curare’d arrow
to the heart.
© 2012 RC deWinter
Subterfuge, lies and betrayal.