Mantis

We are the prey
Held tenderly,
close.
Gripped in the confines
of nature
and choice.
A folded foreleg forcing shut
pressure pushing blades to cut.
To gesture to givers while taking in turn
is evidence to intimidate, but we can't discern
The voice in the silence
The threat from the still
Fealty's fatal, impassive kill.

A life of malice.

No thoughts. No shame or sorrow.
But one prayer is constant:
For more death tomorrow.