The Tuesday Poem: Lioness

By Barbara Korun    

The lioness is my love for you, the tawny lioness

with her golden skin, her golden eyes.

She walks by my side always;

when I sit down to rest she lies beside me,

her face by my leg like a loyal dog.

I play with her, I lie down between her great paws

and let her toss me like her cub.

I feel the weight of her great paws,

the sharp precision of her claws.

I taste dead meat on her breath.

Now she is dying, the tawny lioness.

More and more she falters behind me,

hurrying to catch up with me when I rise.

I see the clotted blood that beads her snout.

She lies there on her side, she raises

her yellow, waning gaze to me.

I ask her: Where has your strength gone?

Where has your voice disappeared to?

I lay myself down between her weary paws,

I close my eyes with hers.

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