The Banquet

The lions crouch, stalking the gazelle,
Shoulder-blades jutting. The Jeeps crouch beneath the acacia trees
Housing pale tourists with Polaroids, absorbing the heat.
The shock of the rising heat from the savannah bakes
The ground dry; he is focused when hungry.
His lips drawn into a snarl, hungry for the exposed pulse
An amulet at the neck of his prey; he prays for a swift kill.
From where the audience waits, necks crane
To capture his teeth, slick with adrenaline. Claws caressing the ground
He pounces, tongue caressing the web of tendons.
The crowds absorb his surging power; the whimpers fade
Surging to the stage, they feast upon the kill.