Sunlight beats down on the beta lion.
His shaggy mane emerges from the grass.
Young, secondary, small,
always lesser, always last.
He claws the unrelenting earth
and wishes he were not
burdened with a chaos
that he doesn’t understand.
Always following others’ trails,
he gnaws their abandoned toys
as though by chewing what they have chewed
he might soak up their scent
and trick the others into believing
that he is alpha too.
Little cub, little boy,
little no more.
Dominance, power, strength:
his thirst cannot be quenched.
He learns from the pack.
He learns to fight.
He learns to growl.
He learns to mate.
The females must submit.
Only then can he be alpha.