The lioness, with glistening jaws,
High heels, and freshly polished claws,
From corner bar, surveys the scene.
No longer young, her pickings, of late, lean.
She wonders, which to cut out from the herd.
A juicy, handsome buck? A shy and grateful nerd?
The young are chewy, over-muscled, difficult to catch and eat,
The old and lame less pleasing on the plate but relatively easy meat.
She fixes on her target with reddened lip and glittering eye,
Her lingering claws stroke shoulder, hand, thigh.
He breathes her musty, feline scent,
He thinks her cleavage heaven-sent.
An image, fleeting through her disco-tousled head,
Of prey dragged home, ripped bare upon her bed.