Savage, or Boredom of a Saturday Afternoon

As my teeth grind, I long to lunge
Rip the throat out of today
Feel its blood warm on my face,
Frenzy in my limbs.

I want to fly, not lazily aloft on breezes,
Beating wings into a downdraft off a
Volcanic cliff, pursuing the darting promise of prey
Diving into the hard air, feathers rippling,
Savage.

I want to man the cannon,
Plunge on smashing waves towards
The placid pleasure craft, smash it,
Splinter the hull and suck the treasure
From its marrow.

I snarl at the sun, enfeebled by lethargy that captures
Only my body.
My spirit broods, paces,
Savage.