Double
Agent
Do not be
fooled by the easy manner
Or his apparently
warm, affectionate nature
The well-groomed,
tailored coat
Perfect
hair and manicured whiskers
Nor his domesticated
demeanour
Do not be
taken in by his love of warmth
And cosy, comfortable,
curled position
Nor his
sleepy, silent gaze
As if
butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth
Always dozing
during daylight
And
rubbing round the legs at feeding time
Do not
believe for one moment that his carefully managed image,
This cool,
collected character, is at all what he purports to be
For Sam is
a double-agent, licensed to kill
A sleeper,
hiding his true identity
Lying low
until Agent Moonlight gives the signal
Calls him
from retirement to carry out his next assignment
Working under
cover of the darkness
For another
operation in a foreign field
Passing
through the portal, turning his collar to the night
Nose, ears
and senses all alert, carefully checking his equipment
Teeth,
paws and claws, all razor-sharpened, glinting
Ready for rapid
deployment, sleek and silent
He slips
away without a backward glance
Leaving his
safe house, out on patrol,
Round his
marked and guarded territory
Eyes
narrowed, focused, single-minded, ruthless
A trained professional,
working alone
Driven by feral,
instinctive urges
To taste
fresh flesh and warm blood
Each
evening before the curfew falls
This
murderous, vicious assassin
Callous creeping
killer in the night
Will make
short work of anything that squeaks and scurries
Briefly
before it dies, life throttled from its throat
Then
brought back, trophy-style
To be
chewed upon the killing floor
The fur
and bones left undigested
Mission
accomplished, victims abandoned
Honour and
appetite satisfied
His shady,
secret life discarded
He wanders
slowly back to base
Reports in
for the evening
Meanders
to his sleeping quarters
Cleaning
his equipment
Before,
contented, curling tail beneath
Setting
head upon his paws
To take
his after-dinner nap
And resume
his old identity
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2013
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