Poetry About Bears

Trapped in a cave of soggy wool,

mistakenly swallowed bones,

some distant fishy smell, the juice

of red hard berries, soft wild blueberries, woodland strawberries,

the foraged corks of black walnuts, 

I curl in valley at the bottom of your stomach

where apple seeds swallowed whole sprout

young-necked and curious. 

I eat only what the bear can spare: chewed hunks of salmon,

if I’m lucky, a drop or two of cold white water.