I see the feral, reptilian intensity in a
medium-small man whose words flow butane
through thin lips, though he is not alarming.
And there are frames
falling away
from his mother’s
tenderly fuming expression.
Harmonies bathe
upon her face.
Though he does know it
yet, he loves this umbra of
hers.
He is witness to
the high grade
of animal strains.
The big, clumsy bear is surpassed
by aggression that is nothing more
than energy choking through a gland.
Night descends.
There is a stunned doe;
a heart waits for repair.
The big bear remembers,
immediately afterwards,
shaking off leaves, that he
can suction red berries from a
nearby bush, which will snap
into place with each pull.
Under a sad, beige sky,
the serpent raises her head,
as if asking for consonance with
the radial sun.
In her indirect seeking she must
be looking for a moment that will
leave her with the gentlest inner smile,
all of earth dwellers’ kindest satisfaction . . .