Snow-Blind on a Hunt

[inevitably_grey]

Snow-Blind on a Hunt

The tiger's fur is hoarfrost
Sibir that blinds my eyes.

And while I cannot tell a sky
from brown ground, I can tell
the oily lucency

of sun from white. It's only
yellow trapped in white,

or white transuding

honey,      syrup,         smashed

cloudberry a screeching colour-
pandemonium de-
colorizing when

it thins toward the white.

And when I shoot, in blind,
through white and yellow,

I hear the light calando

sound of tiger
paws on ground; at first
from a distance, then

from more, and gone.