Colombus

I have a fixation with the multitude of possibilities.

I am obsessed with becoming prey,
The sensation that only a predator can invoke.

In the thickest reaches of the wilderness,
He chases me, captures me,
Cages me like the beast I have become,
From running frantic,
Maintaining cool insensitivity,
An experienced and accomplished hunter.

I know the fear of uncertainty,
I want to acquaint myself well with the fear of surrender,
Of his rifle between my eyes,
Or worse, between my teeth,
(Or perhaps that is better?)
Threatening to disfigure me,
To separate sinew from bone.

To be colonized.

For him to admire my lush beauty,
My wealth of flora, fresh water,
To cherish me from afar, to make his plan,
To conquer my feral utility.

My meager resistence,
I would yield so soon,
Bend beneath his heel,
I am certain he would not crush me,
But exploit my meadows, once wild,
Taking for himself all that was good.

Upon his arrival, nothing was truly mine.