“a daughter” – “a lion”

A Daughter

I bore a daughter,
naked as an oak in winter.

As unstricken.
Her pink feet pelted the sidewalk.

I watched from a shell
of concrete and glass.

Our house.
I knocked on the glass,

waved her indoors.
Asked if she wanted a sister.

Looked in a mirror.
I wore

a green dress, a velvet cloak.
A hood hooded my eyes.

A Lion

There was a lion
in the parking garage.

Very snarly,
fairly large.

He ate the drivers
en route to their cars,

leapt at me—
then stopped.

He dropped like a coin,
splayed like a fan

at my feet.
“I can pray too”

I said and wept.
My tears starred

the concrete
like camouflage.

— Stephanie Yue Duhem is writing out of Austin, TX. She can be found online @nameandnoun or at www.sydpoetry.com

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