Ashley Bear

I.

Bear trap snapped, crunched

her auburn ankle of fur,

bloody, vulnerable howls.

I was the only one around

but would I risk my own life

to save this sobbing, powerful beast,

this Bear of transformation, 

strength, introspection, knowledge, and dreams?

II.

Come, broken one, be worthless with me.

We’ll never try to validate the valueless

(ourselves).

We’re equals—both products of a

forsaken sacred marital union.

No arguments— in Zen with our nullity.

You won’t say, underhandedly, how my ass looks fat in these shorts

and I won’t complain about your missing bowtie.

Tucked in each other’s arms, my comrade, Ashley Bear,

we are secure.

You teach me how to talk to foreboding, verboden God

and a flighty, flakey Higher Self.

And I give life to your otherwise

cotton-stuffed state of Turiya.

Until:

III.

You were replaced by the embrace of a man,

the figurehead, transformed.

Not into a better version.

No, a carnivorous butterfly.

And I thought

they were so damn great

with their masculine charm,

endearing awkwardness

so I let them act as my Higher Self.

Conflicted.

IV.

I’ve gotta save her from the trap,

take the risk of her jaw snapping hard

for the path I’m following

is leading me to extinction

anyhow.

I’ve gotta get my Bear back.

I’ve gotta save the sobbing beast

to invoke the Bear in me.