death comes anytime
everywhere just today
as my daughter watches a cartoon
about polar bears I read about a man
who watched a bear kill his wife
in the Romanian woods
and the man threw stones
I remember what I cannot picture
how the bear drove the wife’s torso into the ground
an understanding in the half dark
of how “torso” carries the moment
just beyond a stone’s throw
when the wife turned to prey
in the hands of the bear
will it break?
my daughter asks holding up
a fork, a rock, a plastic travel toothbrush,
a small metal car, a paper plate, a rose bud,
and when I say yes she shakes
her head holds the blossom close
to my face, but it’s not glass
we are tuned to shatter
we fear bears, carry stones, a blossom
is luxury for the starving, a cardinal
cries from the tree we cut
back year after year
me in red plastic chair
“stumble” my daughter says
but what she does is fall
A Fork, A Rock, A Plastic Travel Toothbrush
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