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| L'oeil à deux Vanessa et cédric |
The Wolf I Feed at Dusk
At dusk the day gathers its arguments:
sirens, headlines,
a neighbor’s anger
seeping through thin walls.
Inside me, the wolves circle.
One sharp-toothed, bright with outrage,
keeps a ledger of wrongs.
The other moves slowly,
ribs showing,
eyes worn smooth as river stone.
I carry food
without knowing it.
Every word chosen,
every silence kept,
every thought rehearsed
after dark
tilts the bowl.
Tonight, I feed the quieter one.
I give it wind in the trees,
my breath returning to itself,
the memory of a friend’s laugh
breaking a hard hour open.
The fierce wolf watches, offended,
but does not leave.
It never does.
Grief wants a mouth.
Still,
the gentler wolf lifts its head,
not victorious,
only alive,
and for a moment
the world feels less like a wound
and more like a place
I might still learn
to tend.
© David Anson Lee
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| David Anson Lee |
