The Bear of Mysore

after Kenneth Anderson, Man-Eaters and Jungle Killers

The last light of day leaves the fields.
A blazing torch flickers through
the darkness on the road in Mysore.
A woodcutter on his way home
hears a snort somewhere ahead
and the crush of figs under heavy paws.

He approaches the noise through the trees
and spots a figure in the brush.
There is a flash of black fur
in the glare of the woodcutter's torch.
Long claws blunted on termite mounds
lunge out and the fire is gone.

The morning light reveals a corpse.
Red coils protruding from a stomach,
eyes and nose bitten out and ripped
from their vacant sockets,
and a bloody tapestry of muscle
where there was once a face.

Two Seas

Out in the hot wastes
sun swelters scorched sands,
sidewinders, beetles,
highways of the dunes.

Silhouettes in haze,
herds of elephants
weary and weathered
track down waterholes
one trek at a time.
Lions shadow them,
envying the chance
to snatch a young calf.

Fresh dew disperses
on the crested dunes,
white breakers rolling,
a mirage far west.