Your once-comforting claws
shot out of nowhere
piercing this gecko’s
weak tail flesh.
In the shock and stress
I knew to cut my losses and
lose the tail.
All had been sure, but now
sure as hell wasn’t. The flapping
tail flopped far away from me, flicking
enough like yarn to distract your
lioness’ eyes,
further maiming put on hold.
As you stalked the twitching
almost-fish, I breathed
freely and slunk away
up the wall, blood-drops
like Gretel’s bread-crumbs,
but you can not follow this trail.
Nothing is left for me now
but to plough on
and re-grow this tail.