My father is a lion with his mane cut and slicked back, learning to walk on hind legs, back arched high.
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My mother has a wolf in her chest howling for light, for the lantern hanging in the sky.
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My brother has a cage for ribs but so do I.
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I am a wild safari: a bathing elephant, a sleeping tiger, a brilliant peacock fanning its feathers, waiting to **** its head and release a warrior cry.
Last poem written for my last poetry class. I thought it should be documented here.