Washington Post Headline, September 8, 2016:
The Lions of Nairobi National Park Are Escaping to the Suburbs
Suburban lions, in a mere two score of years
will regret their move and wallow in nostalgia
for their former state of wildness. On instruments
not yet invented they will play and roar laments,
“Those were the days, my friend, we thought they’d never end
when we hunted and killed instead of sauntering
through supermarket aisles tossing frozen brisket
into carts. In our glory days we stalked our prey
for hundreds of miles, tawny, sleek, and ripped, so fit.”
Mark my words, the day will come when the lioness
can’t take it anymore. As she recalls the joy
of killing, chuckling at the way the little boy
runs to his mama when the lioness turns her
hungry gaze on him and lets slip a rumbling growl,
she remembers the taste of blood and crunch of bone
and the soft pleasure of swallowing tender flesh.
she says, “Forget these steaks measured in mere ounces,
hell with political correctness,” and pounces.