I knew he was the wolf, of course – meek as a retriever
on his bony back, frilled nightcap taut between the peaks
of his ears, drooling at the yeasty smell of my basket. Those
are some big teeth. Thing is, I’d walked into trouble’s mouth
before.

No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. No Kings.
I knew he was the wolf, of course – meek as a retriever
on his bony back, frilled nightcap taut between the peaks
of his ears, drooling at the yeasty smell of my basket. Those
are some big teeth. Thing is, I’d walked into trouble’s mouth
before.
I want to be that person
the one who gracefully gets out of a pool
and their wet hair looks like an Herbal Essences ad
or a beach photo shoot
A signature is like a floating head above the water What you see from the shore is enough to call help.
Don’t bring me near the cat
because you think you can fly away.
I’m nothing but a doll to you,
but I have human skin and eyes,
One hour to pack all that I own in five suitcases.
Their leather peels like sun-burned skin to the touch. I am
away from home and yet my clothes, my shoes,
my books, the items I carry for luck, the pictures
of people I love are all at my side...
I cry out mayday in my mind
desperate to avoid the
inevitable reduction of your self
to just a name and a pained smile.