Where Wolves Go

Where Wolves Go

I pressed my palm into the snow
Beside your giant paw;
My fingers stretched just longer than
The claws above your toes;

I want right now to understand
Your running into lows
And over highs with empty jaws;
I want to feel desire’s ache,
Your longing’s lactic acid flow
That blood alone can slake.

Could anything propel me so?
Or would in weakness I withdraw?

My hand so soon grows cold;
And from your awe I stand up slow;
You’re just beyond horizon’s hold.

---

You can listen to me read it with the night chorus here:
https://soundcloud.com/benwhitepoetry/where-wolves-go

This poem was written with the tears I shed listening to a chance wolf encounter on this podcast episode:

Headwaters: Becoming | (Re)colonized on Apple Podcasts