Monday, August 10, 2009

5 White Wolves
(good gold)

5 White Wolves
carried me home safe last night.
Hustled by wind and through bouts of fire
seamless in their run, panting and sharp -
I made it back safe.

There was no payback, no unnecessary tie to
water like a sailor's promise of the first born.
Just the quick rendering of feet like reindeer.

"Hush" one cried and went ahead.
Through the wooded brush and moonlit sky.

5 silvery white wolves and
their eyes more telling than a muse,
they nudged me ahead, "child,
don't be late."

I motioned towards my front door
crowned in birch and ambiguous rose thorn,
turned back to question, "why are the poetics not right?"
In bewilderment they gazed at me
cause none had a cure,
"the hearts an open door" one said.
I went forward, tempted the lock but then finally,
let go.

It was the 5 white wolves,
the decision I had to make.
The indecision I could not keep,
the fawn I had to resuscitate.

Each wolf shifting
individual time and space -
moving away like a free falling work of fire -
shots of impetuous yellow and orange entrails in
in the black.

5 white wolves -
silvery brilliant wolves.
The charm of grace, the fortuitous
meeting - the pack running
in the motion of one silver backed snake,
a bangle of light
keeping the forest alive and

Resilient, as a metronome of
forest drums,
quick wit,
and a secret added in to the

The strength of one wooded verse,
one night run,
one poem.
There is no leakage in good gold.
What I know, I truly now know.
and I haven't been
the same ever since.

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