Bears pursue me

their button eyes

stitched in a factory

are cruel with the boredom

of their making
cuddling is futile,

these bears, born vengeful,

will not be deterred

they are under the doona

they are into my ears

they are inside my sleep.
They are soft police

gone vigilante, egging my

creaking sleep criminal,

as I beat to pulp

(do you ever dream in noir?)

the intruders creeping in

to steal my child.
night after night after night

I am woken by the

clench of cortisol

and the shame of things

I can’t explain:
the hot frustration of my heart,

an impotence from long ago,

grown narrative tumours,

to defend the origin from cure.
Inside my pounding

outside is quiet

the children are serene

I am unworthy of their innocence

until the grit subsides.
The bears cast their cold eyes

it is crowded where they come from,

the days are long – and who can afford

to waste their rest

like this.
I almost detect a cruel smile,

as if my grinding teeth and paranoia

were coffee and donuts

on the long watch until

they slip back undercovers

where their girl will love them

with her best pretend

again.