Pascale Petit: Jaguar Mama

Jaguar Mama   1   Once, she was the giant jaguar of my prehistory, carried me tenderly between sabre teeth,   licked my rosettes until they grew lush as treeferns draped with black orchids—   the whirlpools and rocks of her tongue almost pulled my skin off, I never knew   if she was grooming or preparing to eat me. Her eyes were oxbows in which piranha shoals thrashed.   My painted warrior, who retreated into the wetland as her power waned, the symmetry of her face   fissioned into a Bosch triptych, wrinkles over her cheeks like demons no…

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