On the honey slick grass
beside the road a garter
snake was tire flattened
and folded over itself
like a child’s trick maze
without start or end. Air
hanging with heat waste
I set out to hunt the bear,
a dim bulk of shadow put
out in daylight. She wants
her cubs to learn her heart
beat and tap it back with
claws in the soil as they
stretch out in the noon
breeze, drunk on the sweat
of the day. My only love is
skinning them and taking
their homes, staying too
long in their caves with
the aging meat. If I could
take this walk without
killing, I would hum
the purest country hymn
and rub my hands clean
with spit from my tongue.
But I’m gurgling blood.
I’ve made up my mind
about these bears. Pacing
well beyond the starving
insects, I push to whistle
no song you’ve heard
all to the rhythm of a
club swinging in hand.
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