I was never the man-eating tiger you
almost convinced me
I was.
You mistook my growls, they were
laughter.
You misunderstood my claws.
I needed attention.
The gold in my eyes was the reflection
of storm clouds.
I would gladly have given my skin
for your trophy room,
But you were never the mystical Rajah
I almost convinced you
You were.
Published in Cosmopolitan, September 1985
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tiger-3/
