The wolves have lost their fangs their will their way

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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