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Have you ever wondered
what the wildebeest wonders
as the breath of the lion
warms its heels
and fangs like sabers
flash ready to unzip the confines
of life and limb?

Have you wondered
whether there is time
for fear
as the sky cartwheels
and dry grass rises
faster than young hooves
to meet fur matted with sweat?

Is there pain
or anguish as the hunted
lies down among the dust
to take up the appointment
of victual to the victor
who must soon enough forfeit
to the same reaper?

There are no questions.

Neither asks why
nor rails in desperation at the sky
as claws and teeth fail, flail, impale.
Victor and vanquished
partners in the dance
faces painted with dirt and blood
in harmony.

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