A poem Wolf around my necksnarling teeth, and red army gumsprotecting in the night when the bad witch comesI call my wolf, mother for, she was there when babushka thread daisiesin my yellow hair suckled at the teatwhen the larder was stark holding her fur tight in the dark, dark, dark shes not a realContinue reading “Mother, Wolf”
Poetry, and other thoughts, by Darius the Mate
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