Archaeological records show that one of our earliest objects of worship was the bear. Reverence for the bear remains in such names as Bjorn, Arthur and Math.
The hair on her tears
may have given it away,
and her teeth around my head -
I was dripping from my claws,
I was dead beneath the snow,
I was skull to the bone -
just deep enough to scar my laughter,
just firm enough to tear surrender.
(Bleeding now, surrender just wants to go home.)
I was busy feeling cold beneath my fur,
I was tired from another year,
I felt my strength given up to fear…
When she came, crying hairy tears,
the way she licked her teeth was not to form excuses:
Rake my pelt, she said. I have an itch!
My claw on her skin split my own.
My hugging her burst my spine out.
My bite was at my own throat
and opened my blood to her thirst.
She was the first to feed on me so.
And where I am to go from here, I may never know.