to
nonna’s house again
there
are wolves
in
the architecture
of
trees along the way
who
are velvet cymbal clapping
in
the conjecture of their howl
the
wolves
lance
the air
with
their noses and
jowl-jut
their intentions
to
eat themselves fully
into
the ripe of Autumn
stand
with us
they
sing to the trees
for
we know
your coatless arms
that
bring the fast
of
a hunger for
more
hope to last
into
another green future
is just past
the
womb
we’ve
bitten
into
EJR
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