This is a poem by Saul Bellow. Not sure if it has a title.
“Mice hide when hawks are high;
Hawks shy from airplanes;
Planes dread the ack-ack-ack;
Each one fears somebody.
Only the heedless lions
Under the Booloo tree
Snooze in each other’s arms
After their lunch of blood –
I call that living good!”
One thought on “LUNCH OF BLOOD”
Reblogged this on My Writing Life.