Not the worst part,
nightmares. Not this heat dome
nor the same dun yard
sewn to earth
outside the glass slider
with its pinch-pleated burgundy draperies.
Twenty hyenas corner Red the lion
on TV and no one interferes.
Not the producer,
not the one with the camera
nor the British narrator.
The lion a done for.
You can see it in his eyes
as he makes little charges
toward one or the other
as they circle and laugh,
yip, bite his back.