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November 3, 2013

Oh brother bear, what warmth resides within your cave?
Above the bones and deep inside where light can’t reach,
the whispers of your breath resound like thunderclaps,
and by your side, the heat within your veins is fire.
Oh brother bear, what strange bedfellows we would make:
an insignificant and weakly trembling man
beside a mountain made of fur and heart and teeth.
Your yawning mouth alone could be my winter cave,
and like a bone am I—a white and tiny thing,
the remnant of bygone meal, whose use has passed.
Oh brother bear, allow me to find rest tonight,
and in the morning I’ll be far away, or dead;
and in the morning, I will rise before the sun,
or else will lie forever in your cave as bones.

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