the cub

sitting in the almost-darkness

watching a shadow moving around the room

not quite floating, not quite flitting

reminding me that there is a chill that only comes from staring up at the sky on a cloudless night

my wrists feel cold at the exact spot where the gloves meet the heavy jacket

reminding me of when I shot that momma bear

she was just protecting her cub

and I was just protecting myself

the shadow growls

reminding me I need to fix the gate in the morning

he’s mine to protect now