TigerSupple as water, patient as the moon: a fact, no more, of waiting. Muscular potential: tiger. Listen. There is nothing to hear: that is the voice of the tiger. In the night, a breeze ruffles grasses, alive as fingers, sharp as blades: tiger. Watch. Nothing moves: that is the face of the tiger. Supple as water, muscles careless as a pool, butterfly pads that wake no warning birds. Test the wind. No scent but moonlight: that is the breath of the tiger. The stars sing a vast, indifferent symphony, subtle as fingers, sharp as a blade: listen. The pleasures of gods are fatal as knives: that is the art of the tiger. For Sappho, Tiger Spirit.