Re-wolf

artist

You are a rare child, my doctor says
and pinches the sensitive skin above my vulva
a walking swarm,
a lukewarm disaster,
a pair of
bloated cherry-coated lips
and tongue swollen from digesting prey

I grab a stud gun and nail him to the wall,
exposed
like a flying squirrel caught in a jump
Next day, he buries me carefully in his garden
I eat dirt and laugh,
making a home of my grave
I know, I know – you could never have foreseen
that even dormant and pretend-dead
I’d be twice your potency

But as sure as I’ll never forget
the wrong you’ve done me,
what’s more important is
you’ll never forget me,
and will never find me in another place.
This, I promise.