The Fable Of The Dancing Bear

Night crackled with madness.
We saw the bear, a dancing bear
against the tree. Jelly-like,
undulating like a snake.

You made this up, you said.

And Lila danced with it.
The bear was deferential.
Can you see plainly now?
Beauty and the beast.

This went on for a while, I said.

The bear asked, would you be mine?
And the catch? Is there one?
You’d die of heartbreak.
She pondered, and said yes.

She laid with it.
But when the moon disappeared
behind a cloud, she’d woken up.
The bear was not in sight.

That’s the fable, you said.


Ah a fable. Storytelling with a moral. You know, like “The Tortoise And The Hare”. Everyone knows that one. Its moral is something like “Slow And Steady Wins the Race”. It’s a worthy moral. Just like us who are writing poems in the whole month of April, right? Do you think you’re mercurial like the Hare? Taking catnaps? Do you feel like the Tortoise? Steadfast and diligent. I guess if you managed to complete the course, you’d be that one. I feel tortoise-like in that aspect. But in the other aspect, in the aspect of swiftness, I feel like the Hare. I write super fast. So that makes me a hybrid. Am I off point? The point, my dear, is to write a fable.


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