kicks an ear drum
and moves in my chest
like a lion’s roar.
Before bolts of light split trees
the skies turn jade,
sitting so still not even a blade of grass bends
under the quivering spines of prey.
As the lion waits to pounce,
high heat crashes!
slapping fields with sonic snarls,
drowning any animal’s cry;
whipping the lion’s rumble
until muted and tamed.
