Don't You Worry About The Pride

Take hold of me.
I am loose—
Swinging my mane across
The snow-salted streets.
But still I bow my head
To the lioness in the end!

I would not mind
Being just a little unkind
Until I am on you.
Upon your den.
Near your end.

Would you believe a naked lie
Lying graceful on your table?
And would you pounce?
Who would you denounce
When it’s between us, just us two?

I want to take hold of you.
The grass is dry,
I wish to eat you.
Lioness, lioness,
Lay in your den.
My mane drips in the sun.