Poem: Fire

Lion.
Dry grass clings his mane–the sun lights to fire,
Flaming blue in his eyes. The
Teeth of a white smile, perplexing as a lightning flash–
Nevertheless, the fang glints.
There are things you fear,

Dusty Kit Fox.
Feathers fleck your red fur–flying lights on fire
Your wild feet. But the burn broke
The blister on your heel–
Didn’t it? Forsaken for the sake
Of forsaking disarmament.

And exposure.
When the campfire smoke made him cough
You told him your two-word lie.
Little tears caught in your whiskers
When you cried yourself to sleep that night.
Waking up in a sweat–

Fever dreaming.
You could scream so loud–couldn’t you? But that alarmed yap
Strains your throat taut enough.
And then his tongue could swell into a roar–instead
Walking silent on those terrible mountain paws.
He was given arms to be strong–

He claws up walls.
And you were given ears to listen, sly eyes–
Burrow the best places to hide.
The sun turns Lion to fire–you keep
those trembling flames inside,
Dusty little Fox.
Open wide and your red heart would rend the sky.

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