We old lion tamers
usually cry
at the damndest times:
reading the newspaper on the toilet,
watching TV while everyone sleeps.
An old lion tamer
can cry looking at the refrigerator.
We remember how it was.
We don’t want any more paws.
Away loud growls and scary eyes,
away hurtful incisors,
once and for all.
We move around our houses
as we did our cages,
backs pressed against bars,
brandishing whips
in case they try to sneak in.
“Back, lion!” we snap.
“Back, beast!”
Even when we crack our whips
and shout commands,
we’re still crying.
It’s not easy being a retired lion tamer.
We remember all those times
we were six years old.