Lying with my pride,
limber, even in my bulk,
mind mulling, trying to find
my looming, lingering
charge, the ascendency to
which I align.
How I might invoke
indivisibility
among my fellows,
my authority
marked by my
luminescent mane -
warm orange fur -
but also by my
curved claws,
my sharp teeth,
and my urge
to assert
them on any
novice challenger.
Men weaken easily at
sharp points
brazen at their throats;
unless their prey
made unfamiliar caged
and forfeit of assertion
awaits
unknowingly folding
to meet like opposite
corners of a
crumpled covenant.
But not me I should think
Out of the dust I slink
mane furrowed
and I crush hunters beneath the warmth that drew them in.