Trophy

I am thirty staring
At a half-devoured
Bird or mouse in the
Center of our kitchen
Floor,
A proud trophy from
Our calico cat
Mamasita.
Many years later
My teenage grand daughter’s
Would similarly bring by
Their current boyfriend
For us to admire,
Every hunter enjoys
A photo of themselves
With their prey as
Evidence of their skill,
Though the frequency
Of the trophies was
A bit alarming,
Each with his
Grin of youthful
Innocence and no
Clue as to what he was.
I would remember
As a child how my two
Older sisters had spoken
Of young men after
They had left our
House and this
Had prepared
Me for the
Hunts to
Come.
I am
Humbled
At the prowess
Of female hunters
And careful not
To follow the
Stereo-type
Of a male
Hunter
As
Dominant,
But rather as
The prey.
Though,
Of course,
Not always...