i take my wolf for a walk
occasionally;

we go to the deep, dark;
we go to the quiet places
where the forest is thickest
away and away from people,
distant from the loved ones
where my wolf can tear me to shreds
in the mossy, green peace of isolation
without hurting another,
and the pain is the same
every time
’til the morning i awaken
a poor man’s Prometheus
ready for the tomorrow’s trip.

kill it!
lock it in a box
and throw it in the sea!

and i would,
if not for its hideous strength
that prevents it being driven away
no matter how hot the torches;
no matter how sharp the pitchforks…

so it sits and howls in my basement
until the next killing journey