Semi-Random Reflections

Read time: 1 min.

From the library window I see a wolf
with a box round her neck
and blood on her claws,
and I hear her shriek
like a volcano banshee.
She’s always halfway
in shadow, even when she’s not
in the forest,
but she’s always in the forest.
She sniffs and traces her pack
while she runs from her pack and hunts
she doesn’t know what
by following will-o’-the-wisps
she only half sees
till she’s gone past them.
She digs,
one slow, rehearsed paw at a time,
as she would her own grave
until she can re-enter the womb
and take her second first breath.
She nods,
seeing me,
and I smile
because that wolf is my ghost.