Poem: Simile

by The New Republic | August 27, 2007

The way on green alluvial islands where the Zambezi meets the Cuando

the lions (cubs scanning smudged horizons as the father drops his snout in gore)

shake out a clump of vertebra and sinews in their teeth to extract the sweetest meat

so we might call it "merciless":

like that we rip reality from all the surfaces that flow

around us. And live in the amnesia of our doing it (I know I do) and so no end to war. And hate it in ourselves and colonize our drives and swallow them and so we eat.

By Peter Campion

Source URL: http://www.newrepublic.com//article/books-and-arts/poem-simile