Griffins in Tiwi

a poem by Roger B Rueda

We took a stroll round Tiwi. The night was

pure with cold air and lit with stars.

The boys were nattering away
towards the street –

they had been boozing all night.

We lurked in the dark.

We lay on our back at the stand,

listening to the sound of the wind

sighing in the trees.

We looked like griffins.

No, we were griffins –

we beguiled them

into choosing to linger;

we sank our venomous fangs

into their necks.

When they let out a sigh of relief,

it was over.

We leaned up and kissed them

on the cheek.

We began a slow saunter

towards the waiting shed.

Our joints ached,

and the memory shattered our pain.