Bear God in Glass Box Speaks

Marybeth Reilly-McGreen

 

Unmilked magic drippers through wall-not-wall

Hits not-earth. Quicksilvers to find old ones.

Mothers push mewling cubs who raise a call

Seated, lashed, stiff pale-skin bodies run red

 

With screams. Fear goes silent when breath runs out.

Crones fan paws, forehead, chest, shoulder, shoulder

Praying to the white man’s mum God, old lout.

Head hurts. Not-mine body. Mange. I smolder.

 

Where the belly-crawlers, the tail-waggers?

She-curs tap red talons on not-seen cage.

I dark-stare. Empty eyes shoot glare daggers.

I am No-Arms-Legs-Skin-Muscle-Guts-Bone.

 

You, not-fearful-ones, gaze at my not-face.

Know in days to come, Fate feeds on all race.