Predator Response by Steve Lane

I am not a silent poet

They lay around all day
and the people come in
Poisson waves

all the little ones
enthusiastic but not too
loud the slow wind plies

above the short green grass below
where they lay around all day
The sign says talk quietly

but it’s hopeless—lions!
They lay around all
four, five

hundred pounds apiece
snoozing, chuffing
head up head down eyes closed or

barely open
watching
waiting

all day behind their moat beyond
their fence and the people come
bearing gifts of little ones

from Japan and San Jose and
always Australia
in their stripey tights and tiny boots

colors lost in every rainbow
never seen on any veldt
They lay around conserving

casual
bored looking
waiting

for a moment’s
inattention
for a moment’s

time alone

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