Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Running Wolf

running wolf scans the white horizon
no one there
something is wrong

she runs.

there between snow whites and
whispered blues
a heaping of human flesh

curled in on itself
neither being born nor dying.

she smells the perimeter, hangs
open her mouth, breathing in
the familiarity of spirit

and at once
licks at what is wounded.

she will stand vigil for
however long it takes

until she dances
once again.


photo credit by Sandi, on Flickr

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