Oak Morse

The Lioness and The Cowardly Lion

The lioness roared

in Cowardly Lion’s ear

to run his nose through her coat

close enough to smell

the bloody gazelle in her body.

She promised the drought

in these woods won’t last long,

lowered him onto a bed of mushrooms,

and told him to suck on her tail

until it becomes silky like a slug.


Drool dripping from his mane,

Cowardly Lion rose back up for oxygen,

then Lioness broke off a piece of bamboo,

told him to grip it like an outsider

on a broomstick trying

to fly his way out of Oz.

She crouched below his core

slobbed his manhood until mist built up.

His eyelids erupted with tears.

Lioness roared why bring the river so soon?

But Cowardly Lion only wailed,

like a waterfall.


Lioness hovered over Cowardly Lion,

his eyes exude with mercy

but Lioness only gave him

the look of silence is golden,

then pushed him into a prickle bush

and planted all of her on top of his lips.

Cowardly Lion wept harder,

inside and out and moved his

tongue like the tornado

that blew Dorothy out of Kansas.

Lioness titled her head back

and roared yes,

the drought doesn’t last long.

Lioness squirmed like a sphere of static

told Cowardly Lion to hack up

all the juices he took in

and kiss her like the king of the jungle.

He did.


Lioness drug her nails

across his knees weakening him

to stay low and keep going,

roared cry until

the crocodile come swimming.

Lioness watched the drought

get drenched

and told Cowardly Lion

to mount up like she

was invading his liar.

He turned her south,

and wrapped

tumble weed

around her throat,

gripped it,

and slip into Lioness,


like oil into a Tin Man.

The Cowardly Lion

stroked and squalled

as if he was slaughtered.

Lioness stuffed his mouth

with a pinecone

to quiet his moans

 and roared

the drought is over!

Cowardly Lion

kept going

until his last ounce

of wetness

leaked from him.

He leaned over

and collapsed

like the house

that crashed

in from

the tornado.


Cowardly Lion,

still, like death,


a row of ants

walked off

with leaves

coated in

his tears.



back up,



into puddles,

and before

wandering off into the woods

she licked Cowardly Lion’s

last tear

and roared in his ear

always have courage just like

a witch walking alongside a lake.


Drunk man crashes into woman’s car.

Woman’s head strikes steering wheel.

Condoms fly from back seat.

Woman gets out, sees bashed bumper,

crumbled plate, throws slurs.

Drunk man spits and flicks off woman.

Woman flings black dildo.

Drunk man records woman until cops arrive,

then winks goodbye.

Next week headline news, her picture,

Porn star sues: rear ended.


Oak Morse lives in Houston, Texas, where he teaches creative writing and theatre and leads a youth poetry troop. the Phoenix Fire-Spitters. A Warren Wilson MFA graduate, Oak has received Pushcart Prize nominations, fellowships from Brooklyn Poets, Twelve Literary Arts, Cave Canem’s Starshine and Clay as well as a Stars in the Classroom honor from the Houston Texans. His work appears in Black Warrior Review, Obsidian, Tupelo, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Nimrod, Terrain.org, Hampden-Sydney Poetry Review, among others.

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