We lay in the meadow of the great bear’s back
and watched the mineral-brushed sky shed
comets, galaxies snarled in the blackberry
depths. We wove our fingers in its fur, myriad
as the feathered grass of the vast plains, ash
and aquamarine and winter violet, and we lifted
with the swells of its sighs, and felt the far-off
thunder of its heart, while stardust misted our faces
and below us worlds warred and died.
The bear saved the last of a species and plunged
a village under rubble, sheltered babies, trampled
rainforests, closed mountain passes and stranded
travelers and left valleys untouched like scattered
jewels in the ranges. Generations of birds crashed
into its velvety mass, mistaking it for sky. It crushed
armies and wept fields green and nosed the marbled
moon to play and changed the tides and drowned
cities, shadowed sun-starved crops and lay down
upon civilizations. It cozied up to the earth and muted
the last song strummed to a dying language. We knew
one day we would have to let go, as we listened
to the distant snuffling storms of its sobs, the quickened
joy of its pulse. With purple paws it cupped the rarest
arctic flower, exhaled and sent a tempest
spiraling through the folklore of centuries.
All this was very far away
with the universe of you
next to me. The bear heaved
and things dove deep beneath
the ocean of our eyes
and the detritus gently scarred
our faces and this is how
I would recognize you
lifetimes later,
and recall who I was when
we were side by side and
back to back with the beast,
drifting, discovered, not
lost. What courage,
what coldness in the glowing
pink petals of our lungs.
