Predator Response by Steve Lane

They lay around all day
and the people come in
Poisson waves

all the little ones
enthusiastic but not too
loud the slow wind plies

above the short green grass below
where they lay around all day
The sign says talk quietly

but it’s hopeless—lions!
They lay around all
four, five

hundred pounds apiece
snoozing, chuffing
head up head down eyes closed or

barely open

all day behind their moat beyond
their fence and the people come
bearing gifts of little ones

from Japan and San Jose and
always Australia
in their stripey tights and tiny boots

colors lost in every rainbow
never seen on any veldt
They lay around conserving

bored looking

for a moment’s
for a moment’s

time alone

One More Bullet by Steve Lane

Just                                                              one.






One more high–speed fuck–up   …    ……..tequila–fueled  fear–induced  ham–fisted

hammer–jawed  throat–crushing  blind–eyed

absolutely–good–for–nothing  ball of




Just                                                              one.




You’ll tell yourself final   last   just

oh how the words lie and lay about lost

out in the garden coming in on the tide


You’ll tell yourself and anyone who’ll listen

since you can’t any more not even hear the

begging the screams feel the woman’s hands


tugging  pulling with weakness with final

ounces of  without hope but pleading none

theless  maybe you used to wonder


how could anyone with an iota of humanity

pull the trigger on a fourteen–year–old

child just standing there just riding by


but that was before they put the fear in and you                                                         stopped

wondering about anything at all stopped

questioning your motives stopped


watching your own actions from a close

distance and asking yourself where did your

last iota go?





Just                                                              one.




If only now, in this instant, you have