Walking home from school,
the roads are quiet so I climb
into your car as it passes by
out of the blue.
We drive along the angry road
laughing at the cowards who crouch
beneath the lion rather than hunting him,
letting you and I walk around as ghosts.
The lion walks in front of the car
carrying the cowards on his back
as the sun goes down. You promised you would shoot
him once you could feel again.
My transparent hands cannot feel.
As you climb onto the lion’s back,
the sky turns blood red and I wonder;
did you miss him and shoot the sky instead?