Printer Friendly

The wolf god.

Like a painting we will be erased, no one can remain. I saw my life as a wolf loping along the road and I questioned the women of that place. Some regard the wolf as immortal, they said. Now you know this only happened in one case and that wolves die regularly of various causes-- bears kill them, tigers hunt them, they get epilepsy, they get a salmon bone crosswise in their throat, they run themselves to death no one knows why--but perhaps you never heard of their ear trouble. They have very good ears, can hear a cloud pass overhead. And sometimes it happens that a windblown seed will bury itself in the aural canal displacing equilibrium. They go mad trying to stand upright, nothing to link with. Die of anger. Only one we know learned to go along with it. He took small steps at first, using the updrafts. They called him Huizkol, that means Looks Good In Spring. Things are as hard as you make them.
COPYRIGHT 1993 World Poetry, Inc.
No portion of this article can be reproduced without the express written permission from the copyright holder.
Copyright 1993 Gale, Cengage Learning. All rights reserved.

Article Details
Printer friendly Cite/link Email Feedback
Author:Carson, Anne
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Jan 1, 1993
Previous Article:Teresa of God.
Next Article:God of Washington.

Terms of use | Copyright © 2016 Farlex, Inc. | Feedback | For webmasters