She bites

She bites,
tight-clenched hand on neck,
a bloodless vampire.

Sometimes pain lightens the load,
so relaxation and enjoyment
are augmented by an awareness of possible danger,
probable games but you never know.

She bites,
life keeping us on our toes.

Eagle sweeps through the sky,
some birds seem nice
and some are only following their nature.

Cities keep us closed in,
in comfort and technological marvel,
and we apologise for touching strangers,
a laughable polity,
a daft way to keep the peace.

This

This is post-harmony,
for those who found their place in the sun
and realise the sun burns some days,
holding a tension between warmth and furnace.
Safety may be an illusion,
yet we throw out nets
to keep us fed.

She bites,
catching sharks,
showing fierce animals her power and her kindness,
throwing them back into deep waters,
having met their eyes and
stared out the strange energy
of human enterprise:
our wayward dreams,
our wild projects,
our dark passions bubbling up
through placid smiles,
our lines of capture
thrown into open seas.
Reeling in the bounty
to see what bit the booty.

She bites,
perhaps just to remind me,
that sometimes things are fucked up:
there is no ocean without waves,
there is no calm without storm,
there is no static without disturbance,
there is no attraction without frisson,
there is no text without punctuation.

What's the punchline?

She bites,
sharp indentations,
a jagged harp
plays jarring harmonies.

She bites,
to remind me.

Sometimes thunder strikes.
Stay aware.