you did not shake or shiver when the
hunter grabbed you by the throat and
tried to tear your skin off head to toe.
no one respects a crying king.

once,
you ran across and through the
jungle and roared loud enough to shake
the galaxies above and down under.
there was no force strong enough to hold you down.

lover,
you think of your father when you think about
what it means to be a man and you
work your hands to the bone so your son
will think of you too
when he is running through the jungle
yelling at the moon.

my lion.
you did not shake or shiver when the
hunter dug his fingertips underneath your ribs
to laugh and see if he could do it.
you didn’t flinch when he pulled out the
incissor and cut down
every single one of your claws

no.
armor does not make a soldier
and a crown does not make a king.
the hunter skinned you head to toe,
my lion
and you never made a peep.