Bear-Clad
by Jennifer Crow
His nature in me:
before the cloak of white fur
before the taste for raw flesh
and the thickening of my nails
and the sharpening sense of smell,
I kept close in winter
and let the cold months peel away
the accumulated fat of my life.
Placid until provoked, territorial,
fond of sweets, I prowled
in the twilight hours, soft padding
among the pines, through the wild berries.
Putting on the bear
was like going home:
something in my bones
knew his secrets -- he left his mark
on me as surely as I leave mine --
long claw marks
deep in the heart of my forest.