POETRY April 5, 2024

I Want to Be the Winner of Fat Bear Week

She stares into what I hope is a telephoto lens, 

water cascading from her jaw in silver chains, 

eyes narrow and cold as a snowstorm sky.

She has no task before her but get big and

bigger; smash open fish that flash like chrome,

their insides drugstore-lipstick pink. I’m a

blond and so is she—a honey blond—but 

the males are afraid of her. I admire her legs’

brawny columns, supporting that vast temple

built of her desire, her belly. Both her cubs

are on their own now. All she needs is all

the salmon and a sleep so food-deep that she—

the park rangers call her Grazer—will forget

what hunger was, even in dreams. Of course she

didn’t ask permission. My sister says to ask

is to be denied. Grazer agrees. Just take what

you want, no need for please and don’t

pretend you can’t eat that last bite of sushi! I

want to storm the icy water of my old age like  

her, river loud at my enormous feet: fat and

without shame. More powerful even than time.

Christine Potter lives in a very old house in New York’s Hudson River Valley with her husband, a few ghosts, and two spoiled cats. Her poetry has appeared in Rattle, Consequence, The McNeese Review, SWWIM, Autumn Sky Poetry DAILY, and Thimble and was featured on ABC Radio News. She has poems forthcoming in Cloudbank and Big Wing. Her time-traveling young adult novels, The Bean Books, are published by Evernight Teen.
Social Media: Insta: @chrispygal. Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christine.potter.543/