Image by Rusudan
Appearance(s) In the fog it's a question of who to trust. You might be a barista or a wolf. Behind mask and protective shades you are, you say, Brid Patt or else Brad Pitt, while really you're a jaguar with slanting almond eyes, round irises, a down-turned open mouth, a flaring upper lip, cleft head and toothless gums. Identity theft. The jaguar as victor. A man in a jaguar's pelt: an aggressor, or just a fleshy toad shedding his skin. As the old skin is shed, the toad will take it in: the dead skin hangs out of the toad's mouth like the fangs of a jaguar. Every mask goes back to the jaguar. A carving: a man disguised as a jaguar? A jaguar acting the part? Or becoming a man? Jaguar. Raw material for trophies. Jaguar. Model human warrior. Jaguar. Mythic lover. Scroll Jaguar, Bird Jaguar, Moon Jaguar. My jaguar. A lover's myth. Or else what's left: a less-than-human god
carved out of hungriness.
Agnes Marton is a Hungarian-born poet, writer, librettist, Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts (UK) and Reviews Editor at The Ofi Press. Recent publications include her collection Captain Fly's Bucket List and four chapbooks with Moria Books (USA). She won the National Poetry Day Competition in the UK.