In the face of a gore-slick polar bear
He accused me
Red like blood, and white like winter, like
Like everything always is.
I look in his photovoltaic eyes
As hot blood boils off him
In pink steam
Tasting of bitter copper.
I bite my tongue
So hard it severs.
Hate isn’t an emotion
But rather
Man’s noblest condition
When he looks the devil in the eye.