Eye of the Cougar

A pensive woman- standing nearby,
Fingers stroking the Hard Rock Maple-
Reacts with a magnetic laughter
To the comment of a passerby
Having difficulty with his speech.
She is closely watching opponents
Searching for their tender underside,
Honed instincts peaked by adrenaline
Hidden by the cloud of her exhale
As she throws back a tequila shot.

Watching, my mind reaches for the thoughts
Of the deliberating stealth-cat
Studying the habits of her prey.
Her brow furrowed with aggressiveness,
Self-confidence feeding on knowledge
Appearing in her body language,
As she observed from behind a pole.
Her stance differing from the others,
More controlled and perfectly balanced,
With the grace of a ballroom dancer,

A feline engaged in nature’s dance.
Taking a blue cube in hand, she chalked
The cue—a catlike claw extended.
Brown eyes sparkled with the Tiffany
Lighting- in moments of reflection.
The crooks of her mouth slightly lifted,
Baring testament to her knowledge.
Her mind- eyes- here- and everywhere,
On the frolicking prey—unaware,
Planning her attack from the far brush.

Through barroom smoke and the commotion
A Harley shirted man nods at her,
“We are up; it is your turn to break.”
Bounding to the rail on sturdy legs,
Eyes narrowed and focused on the task,
She bent parallel arching her back;
With a sudden and powerful leap
The Hard Rock Maple flashed in a blur
The balls echoed like cracking branches,
And the rails thudded from the romping,

As the herd grew silent, in its gaze,
Watching colored spheres leave the table.
Clenched jaws moved right- then left- on thick necks,
In the seconds of the unforeseen
A woman took back part of her life
That night in an old Midwestern bar.
Skills some thought dead found life on green felt,
Giving rise to her teammates’ high-fives—
Awakening those that had not seen
Carmen Jean- the cougar in worn jeans.