Uday’s Lions disappeared, slowly
slipping the bars until the iron caged
only the donkey bones. They roam Baghdad,
feral children with shoulder blades sharp
as incipient wings, and golden collars
the natives dare not loot. The lioness
greats her prey disguised as a lover,
caressing his soft flesh with her tongue,
bruising his ribs tenderly with her teeth.
Later, she will claw her way to solace,
the pads of her fingers crowned in blades. Later,
he will let her, thinking his body a gift she can use.