Before I met him I was a wolf.
With the sun he rolled me over,
his cool hands on my hot gut.
He said, Good morning.
I still love you.
I remember the moonlight like naked silver
through my skin, my muscles,
glinting off bone, but that’s all.
I told him I’m afraid
I’ll wake up one day and be my mother.
He rolled his eyes.
You can’t just change like that.
I tried to leave but he held me. I said,
I’ll bite you. I’ll tear your collarbones out.
He said, No you won’t.
I’ll change. I’ll make you hate me.
No. You won’t.
I’m a wolf. I said. I’m a wolf. I’m a wolf!
No. He said. I will tell you what you are.
