WOLF!
As children we played "Wolf"
and howled its hot pursuit
along the canyons of our street,
wailing the bushy tail
that followed at our feet,
sidewalk to cellar,
lamp-post to door,
feeling the murderous paws
and ravenous breath
tingling the skin of our necks,
setting hair on end,
and circling each eye.
Wolf, are you ready?
Steady on the first floor,
he's coming up the stairs...
second floor, third floor,
he's stopping for some air...
top floor, roof, and now beware!
Rough coat, claws and jaws and tooth
will catch you and you and you and YOU!
Oh run-run-run from the WOLF!
That was spring...
the taste of first free days outdoors.
Wasting no time,
in haste and thirst
we came to summer,
swinging...
making our own kind of hay
and playing a new kind of game,
with dizzy drinks,
jazzy music,
hazy-crazy
cigarettes and kisses,
and aware of other dangers,
the wolfish ways of
friends turned strangers...
love,
as fierce,
as rapacious,
in spite of all the shoutings
and the warnings of approach,
with no one ready
when the roof blew in.
How we ran!
By autumn, to be sure,
we knew the tricks and character of sticks...
Nursing bruised heads
and burnt fingers,
we shook the straw
from our pockets
and settled down...
to play it safe
this time
we thought,
with a solid house,
genuine antique furniture
furniture
and homogenized children,
finding a good night's rest
harvest enough
for such sound dreams
as conscience feeds on...
not hearing the creaks
beyond our snores,
the furtive glide
outside our doors,
until one rainy day,
what a storm!
Then winter came...
and we knew then, there was no escape.
Not again,
not even with bricks
reinforced by steel
over a concrete shelter,
for our pressure is high,
our metabolism low,
and we can no longer
run...
We have set traps,
posted prizes,
sent out scouting parties,
and armed ourselves...
Waking at night
and trembling,
we cry, "Peter
Peter, please come,
we need you!"
knowing
only his toy gun
can save us.
How the wind comes through...