A Bear Lived down the Hall
Rob Hicks

in that inside room
and we fed him scraps of meat
but his claws dulled themselves
looking for escape.

We could hear him roar.
Oh, yes. We could.
He roared and roared
and his hair began to fall out
because we didn't listen to him
and his ears began to bleed
busted by futility.
He aged, sat down,
whimpered like a kitten
in a garbage bag
and without knowing it
we beat him against a wall
until only blood smears remained.

Now nothing waits down the hall
in our inside room;
it is merely dust and disease.
Let's hope next time, it gets a little easier.

Copyright 2013. All rights reserved.

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