Tender are the wolves now
husks
grayed and convex
trembling in the tall
shadows
moving through
the world of men
like phantoms…
we’ve lost our way
I recall eyes
fierce,
burning with hunger
for the world at large
ivory fangs
sleek and yearning
eager to give
never uncertain
…but now…
the wolves have lost
their fangs
their will
their way
no longer the cunning
content to be adequate
iron wills now reduced
to rusted fragments
the hunger is gone
but never the memory
tonguing empty spaces
in our gums
too long have the sheep
known rest in the half empty
half full moon
…no…
remember! the burning,
my brothers remember!
our empty bellies,
our roaring desires
regain that iron will
the steadfast sense of self
step out from the cold, bitter shadows
and howl!
Originally published in:
Bellowing Ark Vol. 25 Number 5 2009
The Smoking Poet 2010
Boone’s Dock Review 1.2 2012
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