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published in Poetry Review,
Vol 100: 1,
spring
2010, ISBN 97-1-900771-64-1
The Wolf
She
wants you to lie down with the wolf,
the
one who eats chalk to make his words
as
white as snow, so each letter lands
in
a puff of smoke, the one who likes red,
who
stays in bed so long he could become
just
another pattern in the wallpaper.
She
wants you to lie down with the wolf,
the
one she has clothed in wool
from
the mountain sheep, the one who is not
as
he appears, the one who treads time
beneath
his paws which are always
caked
in flour, the one the children sing of.
If
you lie down with the wolf, the one who carries
the
wind in his belly, the one who can take
a
house from you, the one who hides in shadow
so
the boy who cries wolf is a liar, she’ll stroke
your
hair and smile secrets at you, slit him open
and
fill him with stones and watch you both sink.
Kim Moore
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