A ravenous, drunken lion who threw everything
against those three sheets of the wind
that never stops blowing
coupled with a lamb gentler than the one
nursing March into April.
the cars coupling in the freight yard,
clanging metal on metal
bound lamb bleat sacrifice
tethered to a stake
Their offspring, three brothers in a restaurant
strain to hear each others’ disintegrating voices.
Talk of fishing in retirement waters,
and fish, like their children, that got away,
like the God of their youth.
Stalking their table, they do not talk of the lion
who quit lying with the lamb.
Published in Verse Wrights