Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Poem by Brian Chan

To A Trapped Lioness

Even in his sleep beside you,

your mate you can hear pacing his

rage-carpeted cage of snoring

vanity whose bars and sharp blades

of light stabbing through them are all

equally his own mind trying

to erase, and not, its tyranny

over his every breath and stamp.

Beware of feeding him your blood

and milk of your still-flowing breast.

Such food both pacifies and fills

him with despair as it keeps him

every day waking to become

his fear that his cage will, and not,

fade. Let pride to its need of love learn

to kneel, or gnaw itself to death.

From Gift of Screws © Brian Chan