Bear Feet

 

 

 

In this world of gridlock

and perilous edges,

I

move

from infant towing ducks

and

l i n e s

to

here

and still the steady growth of skin in which to fit soul and all.

I wish to curl,

fingers in fingers,

but bear feet stretch and dig,

fists are balled and hoping.

Blood sticks

to my toes,

occasional sadness expands

and

leaves

the body,

downstream

via silver boats…..

…..

…………

…………..

…………..

..

But the lines are very dark

and whales are needed to tow them now,

because even on my bravest days

I cannot.