The Prince of Denmark is no fool,

and yet the aggressive bear

that sniffs and breathes the perspiration lingering

at the back door of the Prince’s castle is enough

to send the guards out, armed with spears, to fight the shadow

of what passed as cold deep frost, this bear

never hibernates.

 

The bear, perhaps a relic or offspring of another terrifying creature,

the type that heroes are born to fight and have mead

run over in great abundance as the fires lick the mantelpiece

and scorch the legends of

future Empires, the bear has many heads, many minds

and a bulbous black pregnant spider where it’s now dead heart should be.

 

Like maggots driven into a frenzy as they overdose on rotting meat,

the bear, brown, muscular, never afraid to show its cynical

sharp teeth and claws made of sharpened bone, tests the resolve

of the Prince of Denmark, still reeling from

an attack in its own courtyard.

Like the maggot, pulsating, squirming in a frenzied dance,

the bait is set upon the hook and lingers in life only

to serve its purpose, to lead the bear to its own destruction.

 

Yet the bear, its fur bristling with excitement, has learned much

and plays with the maggot but never putting enough weight

on the string in which the snare of regulation would snap

shut.

Beware the bear Prince of Denmark,

this is no ordinary beast of the dark forest,

the offspring of that fought by Beowulf is a far hardier foe

and is driven mad by the spider at its heart,

each paw like swipe will rip the ground apart

and blood will invariably follow

in its wake.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015.