At night I often find
a cheetah running hard
to the left and to the right
in a dusty Kenyan park,

its muscles held in harness,
slowed down and juxtaposed
against the antelope
that leap away in fear.

Their patterns interweave
and hardly touch the plain
like waves of light that flow
across the grass of stars.

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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 8 Number 1, on page 48
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