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Friday, 16 March 2018

Double Agent


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 2018

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