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The Wolf in Me | G.L. Connors

West Hartford, Connecticut

· POEM PRIZE

This madness.

This wolf that won’t let go

won’t absolve me or allow me to forgive — 

If I could shoot it in the heart, I would.

No. That would be suicide.

It loves me; it does.

Its teeth that shine, its teeth that lick.

A purpling wound, a twilight.

Deep velvet pleasure. And then

the shame. I’m no crazier than our shattered

precious world. Its light that explodes

leaving darkness behind.

I tried, you know. Tried turning away from its raw

hot breath. Tried locking the windows.

Folded and creased a hundred origami doves.

For an hour, maybe two, safety visited me.

Hah. Looked in the mirror and there —

my skin peeling away, the wolf crawling out.

G.L. Connors

G.L. Connors is the author of several poetry collections, including Toward the Hanging Tree: Poems of Salem Village. Connors has also edited poetry anthologies, including the recently published Forgotten Women: A Tribute in Poetry. The editor of Connecticut River Review, she also runs a small poetry press, Grayson Books.

OCTOBER 31, 2018 / MUSEPAPER POEM PRIZE #11 / FEAR

 

 

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