They leave the body. Bloody pile of corpuscles dragged to Lake Manyara’s shore. Young zebra, quiet since teeth first gouged neck. Decimated.
Jowls dripping, appetite sated, his eyes bid her follow. Series of slow guttural growls signal acquiescence. Lioness follows beside. Slowly they retreat into maze of acacia trees. Unseen by approaching safari truck.
High power rifles catch glaring sun. Two men peer quietly into distance. Cheetah carcass, day’s first kill, hangs over vehicle’s hood. Not enough, they seek more.
Image from Pixabay.com
lillian the home poet 
Well done! Sail on, Sister.
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Thank you for bringing me home! I relished reading this piece from my native home. The poem poses an important question on the hunter and the hunted, and the same can be asked in our daily lives.
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I love the juxtaposition of hunting in nature (lions who kill for necessity and walk away when their hunger is sated) vs human hunters (who hunt for sport and are insatiable). The details you used here were fantastic as well.
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and who is a murderer? I once spent a few weeks in Tanzania and was lucky to see three cheetah up close – on the trailer of the truck, one of them – but the only shots we took were from cameras. ~
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