Roaring at Saturn's Shadow
You tell her to eat only when she is starving. So what’s a cat to do when she’s had her fill? Where does she go when the hunt's through?
At sunset, she roars against the dying of the light... She longs to prolong the Eternal Now, as she holds your neck in her mouth, reluctant to chew until she’s certain that her prey and prayers will submit come dawn.
It’s only a moment, a flash of tooth and claw, as she savors your flavor between her wet whiskers and threatens to dig deeper. She wants to tell you that it won’t hurt, but you squeal at the thought of being a slave to her domain. You want to come out one piece... You wouldn’t dare escort her back to the pride before you were destroyed.
You know she’s not ready to digest you just yet. You tremble at the idea that the pride might beg for a bite. You tremble at the idea that the pride might try to take a lion’s share of the best guts they've ever tasted. You battle to break the food chains.
She asks you what it might taste like to prey with no resistance, to pray with no grit...to prey on all flesh, picking no bones about it. She roars, "Why are you so bony? Where's all your meat? Where is the slow-pressed blood they all rave about?"
Did you give your juice to a cooler cat? If so, why isn’t she sharing? Can she share, please?