I did a reprise on the same theme.
This is just strictly about deer and their relation
to their predators.
It's called "Idyll Of Ascension."
It goes like this.
Clicking in rock pasturage, the deer
were delicate except from grass sounds in their teeth
from nervous grazing.
Rightly addicted to shock, fangless economies
like these mooing advocates of speed, posit
the lion in ambush.
Lying down with him in ravin's daily dream,
they struggle out the flesh under his padded paw.
I am undone, sing the lion, and leaps.
His worship, drinks at the throats race,
swills in the hollow gut spilling with sweets,
sick with private desire, and takes the pasture price
for flesh, his noble joy in rending.
So it all goes upward like the deer's pop eyes.
Whoever devoured the lion tastes the deer's flavor.