Some days, I awaken from a typically dreamless sleep,
And I have breasts and hands and blue human eyes;
I’m a woman on those days.
Other days, I awaken from a sleep full of dreams–
That still I cannot recall but feel forging through my veins and my limbs like a freight train carrying untranslatable metaphors—
And I have claw marks etched across my heaving chest like a feral alphabet that bleeds from the mouths of its gaping vowels,
And dried blood caked under long nails that I know I had cut short just the night before.
Some days, my eyes no longer shine glacier blue but storm in wild hot lightening yellow–
A yellow of growling hunger and cached howlings not spent on the moonless night before–
And they rove ravenously over every protruding carotid artery and every flesh-concealed bloodwave throbbing beneath your surfaces.
On those days…
I am more wolf
Than I am woman.
*** You gonna tell us that the wolf is your spirit animal too, Sugar Tits? I know you’re itching to…. ***
*** What do I need a spirit animal for anyway? I’m spirit and animal already. We all are. Some animals just resonate… that’s all. And wolves have been howling inside me for as long as I can recall. ***