Two Bears, One Wolf

Jack Preston King
Oct 12 · 2 min read
Source

In my dream, two hulking
brown grizzly bears appear
in a narrow strip of backyard
where I stand, small and frightened,
in my big brother’s shadow. The bears
are fighting, fur flying, teeth
flashing in the afternoon sun.
I run, scream “Come on!” — dash
around the corner and in
to the wishful safety of the house. My brother
does not follow. Through the window
I watch him pull at the bears
like naughty school boys, scrapping. The bears
turn away from each other, toward
him, saber claws slicing, and he
finally runs, too, joins me at the window. The bears
fight again beyond the glass, but now
it’s night, and a wolf
is out there, too, glowing
silver in the moonlight. The bears
see only each other, blood and rage. That wolf
sees me. His sharp face rises, eyes
find me through the window. He’s thinking
this house is a facade, a laughable
mound of sticks, a child’s prayer piled feebly
between his truth and mine. I wake huffing
and puffing and strangely disappointed
to have survived this night, those razor
teeth, those hard canine jaws still
bared and hungry behind my opened eyes.


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Jack Preston King

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Author, poet, philosopher. JackPrestonKing.com. Facebook.com/authorjackprestonking. Twitter.com/JackPrestonKing

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