We’ve got Snow Leopard Vodka – and now it’s Snow Leopard the Poem

Received this in email from Sabrina Mahfouz, one of the girls who works at Cuckoo Club (“The West End’s latest hot ticket” according to GQ) and thought it too good not to share:

Snow Leopard

A track, a print, a paw.
Trailing, tripping for a flake of a glimpse
of blue eyes, white fur against black stone;
We’ll stay until we find her.

We searched the hours to catch a breathless sight,
rocks crumbling underneath calloused feet,
mouths moving moth-winged whispers;
Don’t scare her away.

But she was far from being scared.
It was her landscape that laid down to welcome us,
it was we who lay caught in yesterday’s suntrap:
Unprepared, unaware, unknowing.

A slashed-throat goat by morning
blood-dripped the directions no map could.
We can close our eyes to find her now
following the frequency of electric beeps.

End