Niama Wiliams

I Want a Lion

i want a lion
cub.
i want to raise him to become a ferocious beast
if i'm attacked.
i want him to be strong for me
playful with me
vengeful for me.
i don't want a dumb beast;
i want an unmasked avenger
playful protector
familiar who lies quietly at my feet and yawns.
long,
gaping,
tooth-snapping yawns.

i suppose it would be difficult
--where to keep him--
for i would not deny him
his wild, his shedevil, his own cubs
his duty.
but i would want his home
with me.
i would want my house
his resting place.
i want him to come to me after a hard day of arbitrating
and laugh as i rub my face in his hair.
for this specific purpose

i do not want
a female lion.
shedevils
are still cursing God
for their lack of mane.

i want a lion to gobble up my brothers.
to force my father to tell
how he could leave me.
i want a lion
because my mother so desperately needed one
at my age.

women with lions are sexy
with their clothes on.
if you can command a lion
you possess something undeniable.
the trick is in knowing
love doesn't command.

i want a lion
to mangle on my order.
to rip, to shred, to kill
if i so much as lift a shaky finger.

i have spent my whole life unprotected.
i want a lion.

 

 

h

Niama Leslie Williams, though she in African American Studies, ain't one of them to change her whole name, cause she love her mama and her daddy. Trying to split the scene with phd in hand and brain intact, she is focusing on the eloquently simple work of Lucille Clifton for her dissertation. Come see her read; she ain't bad.

h