When I came looking for the deer,
She and I were simple predator and prey.
It might be said I felt a kind of fear
To lose her; hers? It made her run away.
I feared starvation. I held my breath,
Creeping towards her—and away from my—death.
One death dies inside the other.
To keep from dying, climb the hill,
Wait by tree and shadow. Throw the spear.
The first creature of the world must kill.
When I approach you, you strangely move.
You fear my love, but also fear I will not love.