She-wolf
A new moon is on the rise this night.
I can feel it, see it,
watching out the edge
of this lonely window.
This moon—it is winter now—
blood red of fire long past;
orange harvest reaped its benefits
long ago.
I feel the coolness of night outside;
wind blowing whispered songs
that only I hear.
Trees reaching up into stars, copulating;
they impregnate my dreams.
I watch out my window,
and see a wolf—
white as snow, graceful
as a prideful cat.
She-wolf,
known only to herself.
Long she’s been on a journey—
searching, exiled,
from homes proved false.
She wants to find one
she can finally trust.
Inside my house,
a fire burns warm.
Embers crackle before
wool-laden feet.
pen in hand, paper at my hand,
I begin to write memories—
memories of the She-wolf,
knocking at my door.
She comes by.
She sees the warmth through
this frosty window.
She knocks once, twice;
I do not answer.
my warmth is but for me alone, watching this moon,
Goddess of night, Selene.
My pen flows blackness:
windy night
upon leaflets of unremembered
things.
Memories, this—
I have a Sister:
Sister moon.
I recall, her skin, yes,
how I knew it then—
her skin so pale,
sculpted from ivory,
dipped in milk.
And my Sister’s eyes:
nothing like the sun.
Blue as ice,
cool as water.
They glint from the ghostly light of her soul
and glow in the icebergs
that surround her hidden treasure.
My pen slips—
three times, that She-wolf knocks.
The scratching of her clawed paws
and cat-purring
sounding beyond my oak door.
Oak door, built up by so many years
of longing and hope—
fear courses through me,
for I know she needs my warmth.
Fire embers crack,
and Sister moon stares back at me;
her beautiful face
written on the page.
I stand from my desk,
the wool of sheep falling
from my ankles.
I pass over cold stone floor
and stand by the door.
I hesitate—
and hear her whisper, rising,
begging to escape the cold.
The mighty oak, known only by me,
cut down, once a mighty tree:
tree of love,
tree of commitment.
Born to be felled,
destined to be cut.
Cut by a melted soul,
carving its way through
my hopeful spirit.
Poems do not describe
the years I’ve waited
for my dear, dear
Sister moon.
Never did she come,
though see her I always do,
every night.
Three times, She-wolf knocks.
I stand behind the barrier of oak,
holding warmth in my hand
and waiting for someone
to trade for it
with cold.
I beg my heart not to, but I give in—
I cannot hold myself from night
any longer!
And I throw open the door.
White landscape of winter;
She-wolf
staring back at me.
Her fur is perfect—
spun of snow,
rippling with the wind.
Her face is soft, round—
not jagged,
as I so imagined,
my Sister moon’s.
And her eyes—
nothing like the sun!
Icy blue, made bright
by the power, confidence,
of soul inside.
She’s borne of water, borne of life;
cool, serene—
tumultuous as the waves,
beautiful as a storm.
She-wolf, She-wolf,
you stand beneath the gaze of moon:
Selene, staring at me, hanging in the sky.
I touch that fur, colored the same
as my dear Sister moon.
The wool from my body falls,
revealed beneath:
a wolf’s hide,
golden as the glow of dying fire,
spun by spirit unearthly.
And these, wolf-eyes
colored, subdued power:
deep green
of heavenly earth.
This night I visit the landscape
outside my friendly oak door.
My wolf’s paws,
padding through the snow.
Golden fur, rippling in the wind;
following the path
blazed by the She-wolf.
Above us, Selene, goddess—
my dear, Sister moon.
I am captured, taken,
made an animal, gilded wolf:
honorable, proud; powerful,
confident in the love,
of my sister She-wolf.
She leads me to the cliffside
overlooking the sea below.
She looks into my eyes of earth,
and me, her eyes of water—
clear, as pure,
as Sister moon.
And there we tilt our heads,
sounding our pain, our grief,
our love, and our trial.
I comfort her—
I throw myself over the cliffs
into the blue seas
from which she sprang.
Disappearing, she follows me
under the light of the moon,
hidden in the cold waters below
where surely, we die.
And there we rest to this day,
laying in the sea of night.
I am patient, but in blissful rest now—
her soft skin, wrapping me up
beneath the sheets of watery dreams.
I know I trust her
and she forgives me.
Once howled,
once like the sun, no longer;
now, as I’m frozen in her arms.
I will not remember my days
in patient human form,
waiting for Sister moon,
who never comes.