How a lion sleeps in the sun.
How a door shutters,
How a blackboard
Becomes an execution wall,
How he assaults them
Before he assaults them,
How he puts a bullet
Through their heads before
He puts a bullet through their heads.
Words without meaning,
To describe the sense of the paws
The lion rests his nose upon:
Pentimento, divertimento…
That do nothing to explain
Why why why with never
A why that is adequate.
It will
Kill a man
It will
Still
Kill a man.
But not
Soon enough.
Not soon
Enough to save
The small,
The uninformed,
The innocent.
The innocent
Harbored their own ill,
A forgiveness far
Reaching longer than
I can dream.
The lion sleeps in the bright
Of a day known before
And known again when
The paws are licked.
Nothing
Explains.
Not a broken analogy,
Not a torn metaphor,
Not a ripped simile,
Not a broken appropriation
Of Theme.
Not all
Ways soon enough
To know
Forgiveness
Or the cyclic chain
Created still
With the simple
Act of reaching
In and out
To harbor
No ill.
It will
Kill a man.
It will
Still
Kill a man.
But not
Always
Soon enough.
© 2012 – Mark A. Douglas – All rights reserved
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