the lion paces its cage
her bad moods an ethereal reminder of her rants and rumbles
long after shes left the room; unfurled anticipation pricks and tingles,
aftershocks come in waves and spread out as wings in flight
a blanketed tide ripples across and washes over the bed.
as we wait like surfers hoping this tube wont swallow us down
it takes a while for her ocean to calm to a tranquil sigh and find a level,
even longer for clouds to make an appearance past a dubious unity
one person can bring the vibrant mood down in an entire home.
still the lioness paces her cage
searching for some meaningful maturity,
we’re are all trapped, bleeding out
dying from a search for life in her gated community.
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