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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
appears


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.


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photo credit by Sandi, on Flickr

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