Young cub, this is the story of how you must never neglect
(no matter how preoccupied your nascent intellect)
to keep in mind doors! And close them behind you.
Any time you leave one ajar, she might find you.
I describe: human girl with wealth for hair,
ghosts for eyes, who wanders woods. Bears, beware.
Through any doorway no closure obstructs,
she wanders out of hunger. If she sees you, eats you up.
Bear cub tallow scone with a honeydew butterwhip;
consommé from your bones and your cartilage;
fennel-mint sausages ground from your lungs;
hollandaise all atop your remains by the time that she’s done.
It’s why we leave porridge sitting,
case she makes it through an entryway, cold jaws dripping,
her saliva unremitting and her soul corrupt.
(She could eat that instead of you, little cub.)
gets in through your open door,
stalks across the parlor floor,
creeping on her brunch.
she has had her fill,
won’t be lingering here still,
seeking out her brunch.
Amber alert: call the fairy tale amber lamps
‘cause this banana-colored-haired girl’s bananas, stabbing bears.
Beware of the bear hugs. I'll kill you with my bare hands
when you’re barely sleeping, tear your lungs and leave you barren chest.
Don't believe the tales they told you where the humans win?
I'll take your humerus and feed it to my human friends.
Eyes luminous, voice is very soothing, yes.
I’ll break and enter with entitlement that few possess.
I’ll go crying through the forest and the woods,
to the farmers in the village with an armful of goods.
And by an armful of goods, I mean meat.
And I mean your little bear cub arms and your feet.
So better promise to your mama: leave the door locked.
‘Cause you don't want to be at the base of a farmer’s tall pot.
Don't mean to scare you, I really need to warn you:
watch out for the frock ‘cause Goldilocks is coming for you.
Calm, calm, little bear. Settle down deep in your blanketing.
Yes, she’s lurking, but best remain sanguine.
She’s not angry at you, just hungry.
People don’t have feelings like bears, honey,
they’re supernatural creatures that eat without cease,
and they keep bound books full of us recipes,
and this one freezes our hearts on return to the lair.
What if she’s gotten in and she’s still there?
Don’t clutch the blanket, she visits when we’re absent.
That and your absentmindedness acts as an attractant.
One moment’s diligence is all it takes to defend
your mother and me and yourself from an unwelcome end.
All of her human friends, they could bring mimosa.
Goldie gets her knives in you, might invite them all over
to the spot that she found for brunch.
It could happen if you leave the door open just once.