April 1, 2010
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Black rosetted exotic spots
Golden radiance of her hued pelt
Wings of buoyant air
Guides her leaps
Among the arboreal canopy
She calls home.
Eyes, entrancing emerald
The fierce joy coursing through her veins as she hunts
The touch of her mother’s muzzle on her head
The raw terror of the machines cutting down her home
The feared snaps of trees as they plunge
Her mother’s frenzied attempts to rescue.
A branch lands, the crack of death ringing
She is homeless.
A single ocelot in the cruel jest of the world.

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