of species, class & gender

a neighbor called today. she said she’ d seen tracks. she said a rancher across the valley had seen two mountain lions mating. she said she’d called in her cats, her child, her dog, and that we should do the same. i watch as her dog, a large, standard-bred poodle, dances away from her call. white, ethereal, absurd against the chaparral, he floats off into the hills. down the road mr. decker tells how a lion killed a doe right out in his apple orchard. “i didn’t know a deer could scream so loud,” he said, shuffling out some hay to the two spotted fawns standing wobbly legged under the trees, nibbling on fallen fruit. refusing to leave the place they last received their mother’s nuzzle.

across the canyon the lioness lies down with her mate. tawny coats sprawled into the dried brown bed of grass, still hot and wet from their lovemaking. the lioness stretches and begins to lick her paws her face her belly. now, leisurely licking her sex off her lover’s face, she pauses, catching strange scent. lip curled, smelling flea powder, smelling flesh, she listens as breaking twigs announce arrival. soon a floating white apparition trots stupidly into the clearing. coifed and clipped, balls cut and brains bred out, stomach filled with kibbles and bits of horsemeat, chicken, lamb. the neighbor dog blinks, and thinks about barking. in the split second between lick and leap the lioness gives thanks this day for being twice blessed.