Near the stone ledge
where I sleep
the lion paces.
All night
he walks back and forth above me,
then leaps to the ledge,
settles in close.
I feel the heat of his flanks,
the brush of his breath
as he studies my face,
thinking it over,
thinking it over.
—Diane Vreuls
Published in the 2012-04-06 issue: View Contents
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