Lion in Winter

 

I hate myself
My life
This place

I loved my sky
Not this grey jail
Its white flowers fall on my back
Their cold curls burn

I eat and pace
Pace on sharp stone
Pace till I drop
I want to die
But not yet

They feed me bones and rabbits
All dead, tasteless
There is nothing to hunt
No one to hunt with

They did send one more
I cannot mount her
She smells of dung and insects
No more alive than I

I watch my feeders
Time their walks
It would be easy

Little and big ones appear
Watch me as I stare back
Roar when I kill a bird or lizard
I would roar and kill them
Rend their flesh
Eat their eyes

Gazelles live here
But I cannot leap these walls
Some day they will walk by
I would like to smell their fear

And rip their throats
Lick their blood
For an instant I will feel alive

Then they will come
That will be my time to die