On a forest walk

Cobweb paint.

Thick rug skin from the slender shadows,
between chunks of sun.
chipping away at bits of skull,
of dark foreign tongued intruders,
stumbling upon his quiet abode.

Yellow upon white,
trails of notches,
tiny serrations carved into
their meshed heads.

Curved teeth making
meticulous portraits,
dripping from the eaves.

He looks up at me,
tusk glinting in the sun,
and gloats.