Friday, July 22, 2011

The Bear

I see him most days now,
he is not a friend
There is no agreement,
some place in our brains
that makes the other safe
I see his savage pig eyes
and there is no sanctuary for me
I can only go out along the river
with my back against the rush to the sea

To think that I have escaped the world,
found the mountains and forests,
my stillness, only to come to him

He will take me one day
I write this so you will not
look for me

The winter is my respite
When the snow buries him in his den,
I long to find it and kill him
in his long sleep

I loathe the spring
when he will come out
He will hunt me then,
find my frantic breath
on the mirror like spoor
He will make me look
until I bleed

It is not my flesh
that he wants

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