Ursa MajorLap the light, panting.
Long streams of pink
ripped from fish flesh
flow through fur brown
as only bear can be.
Upright, relishing the red
of life leaving life
to strengthen cinnamon self,
the wading warrior lowers
to fours, lumbers to forest,
her sole sister. Sweet
song of bees building
is stronger than stings, savage
honey harbored in hexes—
cloying catacombs—
tipsy liquid thickened
with twilight. Triumphant,
she shines like stars. Sun
bound in blackberries
sets like clustered spheres
guzzled, the great throat
of night wide to roar.

Copyright © 2007, Mary Alexandra Agner

Image Credit: Robert Stokes, some rights reserved

Mary Alexandra Agner writes of dead women, telescopes, and secrets. She makes her home outside Boston. She can be found online at http://www.pantoum.org.