The Bear In My House

For once, it was the bear doing the destroying.

The house had two levels

and when the bear entered -

huge like Alice squeezing through the tiny door,

not knowing Why or How-

I fled to the basement with the others,

who seemed- strangely, eternally- unconcerned.

The bear was in my house then, crashing

through my rooms, one at a time.

What was it looking for? Food?

The tactile delight of things breaking,

splintering underneath its pressure?

Let it do its worst to the structure of my house.

At least it's not me up there- ripping up floorboards

to expose what's underneath.

The bear comes from the forest- which is real.

A companionship of houses lay around,

and later we will talk about the damage that has been done.

And compare plans for reconstruction.