Cream For The Feral House Lion
I liked it when
you'd shadowdance
silent across the electric grass
for your dawn saucer of cream
beige on beige, yellow-eyed dream
giving back less than a cat
but still, absently
clawing away
some of the grey on grey.
Now there's just drought and
wind, empty as the exhale
of copper-sweet cat's breath
or bleaching kudo hide,
only the grit in my knee
grinding, no music of bones
nor dance of the mind,
no purr-rumbled words,
their inexplicable comfort;
nothing left of
you, not the bouyant
you, not the bouyant
Archimedean arc of your desires,
your moon-sown Tarot
serpent sure, lion wild;
just the bin in oblivion
where all your tawny messages
have come to feed
feline soft in the long
savanna summer.
~March 2013
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Challenge:Transforming Fridays
The ever-inspiring Hannah Gosselin gives us another of her biome-centric challenges, this time to express the voice of the wildlife of the savanna. (As always, my wildlife may vary from others' wildlife.)
Hover mouse for image attribution, or click to go to photographer's flick'r page.