What's In His Belly?
I’ll be better in a minute,
let the cool breeze caress
my cheek, and the sunrise
arrest my attention, even
the littered city streets
are a consolation.
I’ll be better soon,
better than before.
I’ll be a lion’s cub
born from a doe.
Riding the city bus,
I think, it wasn’t him or I,
or any one in particular,
but all mankind,
the way of the world.
I was a doe when I met him,
but he ripped open my belly
and there was a lion’s cub
inside the womb. The doe
died. I am greatful.
ii
The lion’s cub wanders
the woods learning to hunt,
stalking a frog or rabbit;
someday the lionness
will stalk a man
with graceful strides,
carrying a long knife,
but a lionness is not tame
like a doe. Maybe we’ll see
what’s in his belly?
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