Poem by Lillian Anderson

Art by Lillian Anderson

sitting idle under dust blanket
darting eyes
tensing, bracing,
clinging
anticipation
of thundering roar
imagining 
beast barreling
cinching neck between jaws
total decapitation
clutching at my throat
trembling, 
picturing
change emerging,
or more like barging, in,
rearing and
snarling clattering slobbering
gnawing incessant
rumbling roaring
trampling new buds flat and tearing open huge hole—

beast pads in silently;
unnoticed over the sound of my thinking.


then, while experiencing,
mind rocked loose 
detachment and crazy staring, eyes rolling around
gasping in the slashing current, all energy tunneled into feet on the ground,
not much thought,
just : “I cant believe things are changing!”


finally beast backs off
coming into the clearing 
blinking hard and scrubbing away
refocusing
noticing what became different 
longing, grieving, 
loosening grip and eyeing
the inky shape circling,
familiarity forms,
my eyes softening and  
reaching out
to smooth fur
Was It Really So Bad?



realizing it not just as menace
but as nature,
flattening of old growth,
charred and smoldering,
floods slathering homes, 
just as
spring remakes
everything reforms
circular in its entirety 
encompassing both
death and life
coming and going.
reaching out to the animal then,
who flinches,
but never does bite.