There is a wolf in my garden – New Poem 1st draft

There is a wolf in my garden

There is a wolf in my garden,

and we have been standing here

for twelve nights and twelve days.

The weather has harassed my

skin, her fur.

 

Our ribs poke out

like broken pine branches.

Our throats are fist tight

with dehydration.

 

She settles at my feet,

but I still bear the scars

from our battles,

when I mistook fear

for tenderness.

 

Our obscure dance,

where her paws

were on my shoulders

has left prints

in the damp ground,

where yesterday there was snow.

 

My ankles turned blue,

she chewed down

on the white stuff

as wolves do

when they don’t want to be noticed.

 

Her eyes are no longer blue.

They are golden now. She is grown.

 

I will always carry the scent of wolf

at the nape of my neck, on my wrists,

between my shoulder blades and fingers.

 

I hate her. I love her.

She howls for me. I learn to howl back.

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