POEM OF THE DAY
The Werewolf in Love
When you go afar off, hunting alone
my heart turns white,
my bones wither to dry sticks,
my fur turns to smoke,
and my singed tongue dissolves
to a black stone
too heavy
to lift in song
even in the full silver of moontide.
When you are running afar, my alpha,
my chosen mate—
I am just a man,
dressed in smuts and ashes—
The dogstar bites my brain
with a mouth full of Januaries—
And I think,
she will litter moondogs
without me to hunt while she dens—
I think,
I will hire on with a traveling sideshow
as Dogboy,
and search for her
among the crowds of prey.
But when I hear you howl, afar off
your song ignites
a pillar of fire in my brain
my eyes re-ember
the lay of our land, the promised wilderness
and I return the call
across the valley of the shadow.
Dana Pattillo, 1997
(PoD 37)
7:23:21 AM 
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