Poem: Quarrel

Last night the wolf cried

and I tried to run–hide

in the deepest forest

still the wolf found me

and I try to swim above

my own thoughts–words

my own voice

to escape, the shadow

of its breath—claws

the fierceness of his teeth

that seems huge—large

still the wolf found me

as I try to reason with

a face resemble my own

as we disagree

as we fought

how foolish of I to think

that the wolf loved me

that I loved the wolf

in my undesirable way

surely the wolf wounds

must be far deeper

greater than mine

The sharpness of my own claws

tries to scare him

as he backed away

he knew and I knew

our space felt invaded

we were frighten by the things seen

unseen, the things we did

could not see—as yet

by the mirrors of our own