I'M INSIDE THE POLAR BEAR NOW
and it's not unlike a waterbed.
I also have a bookshelf, and coral
scraps of an aquamarine sea.
He yawns these savage alpine yawns,
terns glide in on the drafts. While I read
he drags his paws through the gravel
of the Arctic dial, his walk both savage and clumsy.
When he sits, I tip into the correct birthing position.
Once someone looked hard into
my polar bear's eyes. Two hot coals looked back,
bright enough for a Coca-Cola ad. I sigh he sighs
like a cedar tree. I've learned to love
the stones on my pillow, reading with my eyes closed,
the icy plunge of water here, how it stings.
SJ Stout is a writer and actor currently living in Morgantown, WV where she is pursuing her masters degree in literature. Other poetry publications include Cider Press Review, Rust+Moth, and Connotation Press.