Wilderness

THERE is a wolf in me
fangs pointed for tearing gashes
a red tongue for raw meat
and the hot lapping of blood

I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it
to me and the wilderness will not let it go.


There is a fox in me
a silver-gray fox
I sniff and guess
I pick things out of the wind and air
I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers
I circle and loop

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