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The polar bear was Too hundred yards away The hunter knew he had hit it No one could miss that birst of red Against that yellow sun over the space of snow Even blindness could measure the impact He had got down on one knee And he had aimed the barrel Putting it to the center He bet the bullit would somewhere enter The living white To count on the head or heart Might be a mistake Why take chances It would be like being out of matches And he froze and squeezed the man made might The sight overwhelmed But the bear still charged He was huge on a bounding nervious system And fear in his finger like a piston The man pumped his magnum like a storm The bullit had crushed the temple The man felt it in his genital But the rush was to much Such power spitting streams As if the bears veins were ment for the air To tear apart another artery Would bring a battery of men against him But about the whiskey bar The bear wouldn't let him see that far Through his massiveness spreading wider Ending - And when it fell; the round hole between it's eyes was still SPEAKing