Roseanna Alice Boswell
POETRY BY ROSEANNA ALICE BOSWELL
I Become Obsessed with Surviving a Bear Attack
I have never seen a bear
in the wild. I imagine bear
scenarios: I am walking through
a forest with my lover, naked.
There are bears everywhere.
It is a bear orgy. A bear festival.
My lover is immediately eaten
by a bear. I am frozen. I try to
remember the difference
between a bluffing bear & sincere
aggression. O no––I’ve died again.
Reset scenario. Try another path.
What is it about the word
mauled. I watch another TikTok
about bear behavior: ears back
mean death. Red claws mean
death. Baby bears mean death.
Ears forward & they may only
stalk you back home. Bear
reconnaissance. Bear home
invasion. Once my mother
saw a bear, she thinks. Mistook
it for a too-large dog. It was only
a small bear. Still can’t be
too careful. I read another story
about bears: Goldilocks leaving
a tent unzipped. That’s not fair,
I know. Bears just need to get by
like anybody else. Bad bear
press is bad camper behavior.
Bears can run 35 miles per hour.
My car can’t even make that up hill,
probably can’t outflank a furred
shadow coming up the rearview.