Chicken and eggs lobbed
from twelve feet away keep him
fed. They comb his mane when
he’s sleeping. They clean his chin with a sponge.
Planted in someone’s garden next to
the tulips.
Cool dirt and pebbles
pack up tight against his belly down
below
below.
They let him roar when he wants to roar.
Why not?
He can’t feel his paws
Comments
2 responses to “He can’t feel his paws”
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Euphoric, Cecil! Euphoric. I love this one. Ripe. It leads me to wonder about a Jungian interpretation.
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Roar! Amazing
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