The Hobbyist:
Gun over my shoulder
Relentless, avid, precise
Following every mark you make
Down to the tiniest break in oceanic sweeps of snow
Freezing
Your exquisitely rare pelt will make an exceptional rug
They all will finally see who--
Or perhaps you will be flung over my shoulders
Crowning me with your totemic, beastly glory
I promise I will use every beautiful part of you
Nothing will be lost
Even my taxidermist will exclaim over the astonishing beauty of your lifelike eyes
Your precious, pure white fur will warm me
All through the winter and far into the spring
Should you elude me
I have but to wait for the summer
Where naturally I will
Assume my other ego
That of the lepidopterist
Carefully stalking your antithesis
With the frailest of nets
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