On his ledge

High above Skull Island, Kong
Watches sunfall hears the surf
Leap, feels a cool breeze as down
In the forest mist rises
Claws slash ripping teeth tear but
Nothing’s killed just for pleasure
And nothing dies of despair.

The sky darkens, stars ignite.

Beyond the wall camp fires flare
As Kong’s old scars, well beaten
Tracks through greying hair itch and
Tighten he dreams old bones new
Fleshed and himself safely held.

Wakes suddenly

To his heartbeat’s drumming sees
Smoke on the horizon rear
Up like an uncoiled serpent
Fangs bared and ready to strike.





Kevin McCann



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