April 4, 2009: What To Say To A Bear, Ionna Warwick
What To Say To A Bear
Ionna Warwick
Do not run. Stand still
and talk softly to the bear.
“What To Do If You Meet a Bear”
Canadian National Park Service
Bear, you could make these
bones crack; you could spill
into roots my unjustified
desire not to die. How unhurried
your tongue would be
burrowing into places
more secret than sex.
When you rise, you look
like a man—a wild man,
our image of terror.
I should carry a bell like a leper.
I couldn’t turn over rocks,
or paw the ground with flint-like
claws; it’s difficult for a human
to be beautiful.
You climb into yourself for winter,
into your bulk and hoarded warmth.
The forest closes its shadows.
I dream another birth,
licked with a long bear tongue.
Bear, give me a sign
the universe is kind;
its paws and shaggy
nights embrace
our mind, that wildest part.
Bear, black luxury of the earth,
in truth I don’t know
what I would say.
If talking softly
would be enough of an expiation.
A year ago today: In The City of Light, Larry Levis
Two years ago: the mockingbird, Charles Bukowski
Three years ago: Part of Eve’s Discussion, Marie Howe
Four years ago: i thank You God for most this amazing, e.e. cummings
