Here’s the secret at the center of the maze,
here’s the pebble in the dirt-drawn circle – 
you are not a cat, 
you are not a rabbit 
you are not predator
you are not prey – 
only the potential to be one or the other
until you are in motion. 

The dwarf female watches me watching the cat.
Albino, she should be a tender morsel 
served raw in her own skin. She growls, 
she defies; brave as a fairytale princess 
fleeing incestuous marriage; bargaining 
with witches; herding geese; slitting 
the wolf’s throat - she is no-one’s meat. 

The elderly male is sleepy and dozes
humped in a soft loaf. Even the female
sways on her feet. The day is hot
and both are nocturnal.  

The old rabbit, uneasy in his dreaming,
reaches out to her, not a trembling hand, 
but a twitching nose.  She sniffs in reply, 
jumps him o’er easily, backs her haunches
into his side. His eyes close immediately – 
a dappled rex, he would be invisible 
save for her stark white vigilance. 

I watch her watching the cat. 
The cat’s pupils contract with desire; 
the little white rabbit elongates towards it,
fascinated. She can’t help it.

Here’s the pause before it unfreezes, 
here’s the space between here and safe – 
none of this is anyone’s fault.