What's In His Belly?

I’ll be better in a minute, let the cool breeze caress my cheek, and the sunrise arrest my attention, even the littered city streets are a consolation. I’ll be better soon, better than before. I’ll be a lion’s cub born from a doe. Riding the city bus, I think, it wasn’t him or I, or any one in particular, but all mankind, the way of the world. I was a doe when I met him, but he ripped open my belly and there was a lion’s cub inside the womb. The doe died. I am greatful. ii The lion’s cub wanders the woods learning to hunt, stalking a frog or rabbit; someday the lionness will stalk a man with graceful strides, carrying a long knife, but a lionness is not tame like a doe. Maybe we’ll see what’s in his belly?