Beasts in Ravage
by Hareendran Kallinkeel
He lashes out
with a paw, hind legs firm on the ground, mane
quivering, and roars. A flock of migratory birds
takes to the sky.
She strikes,
claws extended, and growls, tail flailing. A herd
of zebras gallops away, stomping the ground.
A fly squats
on the bloody chunk of a deer’s flesh that
lies between them, smeared with granules of soil
like dust on tree leaves in summer.
The lion
sniffs the meat, the lioness growls again, baring
her fangs. He sneaks his tail between his legs
and departs.
“Turn off
the stupid TV.”
“You can’t
stand it ‘cause it projects a poor image of
males, right?”
“Wrong. I’m
just hungry. Sounds like females don’t
understand subtle hints.”
“What do
you mean?”
“You saw
the apparent; the lion retreating.”
“What’s
not the obvious?”
“It’s
there, baby.”
“Like?”
“What did
you cook for dinner tonight? I’m starved.”
“Let’s
see what happens.”
“The lion
will come back.”
“He’s
surrendered the meat to her. What’s there to
come back to?”
“You know
what made him quit?”
“Aggressive
femininity.”
“Nope.
Prospect of courtship. You see, he’s obliged
her. I’ll fetch us dinner.” He sneaks
into the kitchen.
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