by Trisha De Gracia
In Alaska you learned how to fire a gun. You shot a grizzly
poster, tacked to a sled and then dragged
(all in chains) by a truck
to your feet.
Proudly you blasted great nothingness into it.
I named him Dwight. You liked it, and I liked the way
he hung in my tiny bathroom so that's where we
put him, when finally! you came home. Hairy,
stoic and watching for nipples,
hearing all manner of intimate things.
You left and I wondered
just which one of us
was the bear.
Posted on 02/18/2010
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia
|Member Comments on this Poem
|Posted by Charlie Morgan on 02/18/10 at 07:26 PM
...trish, this is tight and a moutful of meaning...easy for me to say this is a great write...cool.
|Posted by Charlie Morgan on 02/18/10 at 07:27 PM
...here's the H i left out of mouth.
|Posted by Joe Cramer on 02/18/10 at 08:28 PM
|Posted by Coleman Demiurge on 02/19/10 at 07:21 AM
In ancient cultures, bears were considered equal with men... I suppose we do have are similarities, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but they're not exactly cute little teddy bears all the time either. Anyway, I like this piece very much; it has a subtly sapience to its tenebrous nature, which is never a bad thing. And I'm always a sucker for introspection, so long as it doesn't apply to me... Wonderful work indeed; very nicely done.
|Posted by V. Blake on 02/19/10 at 08:27 AM
Bears. Beets. Battlestar Galactica.
|Posted by Paul Lastovica on 09/09/10 at 09:52 PM
is it possible that both you and he were possessed by a bear spirit? hmmm =)
|Posted by Rachelle Howe on 07/07/11 at 08:14 PM
NICEEEE! It's been forever since I got to chew on your thoughts.
|Posted by Rachelle Howe on 08/09/12 at 08:05 PM
Or which one still had the gun powder hole left?