The Mountain Lion

A poem by Ada Limón

By Ada Limón

June 20, 2021

Ada Limón

Photo by Lucas Marquardt

I watched the video clip over and over, 
night vision cameras flickering her eyes 
an unholy green, the way she looked 
the six-foot fence up and down 
like it was nothing but a speed bump, 
and cleared the man-made border 
in one impressive leap. A glance 
over the shoulder, an annoyance, 
an "as if you could keep me out, or 
keep me in." I don't know what it 
was that made me press replay and 
replay. It wasn't fear, though I'd be 
terrified if I was face to face with 
her, or heard her prowling in the night, 
it was just that I don't think I've 
ever made anything look so easy. Never 
looked behind me and grinned or 
grimaced because nothing could stop 
me. I like the idea of it though, felt 
like a dream you could will into being: 
See a fence? Jump it.