Vogon Poetry - Lion in a Cage 
 
 
 
"Behold!" 
The woman speaks from the beyond the outer door. 
"Stand back, or the lion may devour you!" 
The bitter tone in her voice crackles 
like brittle parchment being used as kindling for a fire, 
through the wooden splinters into the air beyond. 
I retreat, not wishing to be devoured. 
The lion, stalking proudly 
with seeming unconcern for his cage, 
unleashes a mighty roar. 
I stare, transfixed 
at this living mass of golden fur 
as it glances among the crowd with disdain. 
Seeking solace, the animal finds none. 
With a snarl, then another 
he curls up and dozes. 

Sometimes I think I understand the lion. 
Even though he is cared for 
the lion is still in the cage. 
Frustrated and angry, the lion voices his displeasure 
until he satisfies himself. 
Was the lion angry yesterday? 
I wonder. 
Will he be angry tomorrow? 
Will he pace the cage in a slow, seething rage 
wishing nothing more than to do as he sees fit? 
Or will the lion just lie there uncaring about the world 
around him, wanting to be left alone? 

Perhaps I do not understand the lion after all. 

I turn and walk away, leaving others to decide what the lion is.